Be My Downfall
by EbonyBeach
Summary: International Women's Rights symposium, London. He's heard all about Olivia Pope, of course. Everyone who's anyone in politics has. And for Fitz, she may have come along at just the right moment - to remind him that happiness does still exist; that there are others he might love, again. AU.
1. Is This Your Usual Handshake?

**A/N : So, I've been struggling with writer's block on Lifelong Love Letter, and instead this came to me. (Very) loosely inspired by The Affair - as it's turned out, they're nothing alike! There is more to come, and I'd love to hear what you think. Please excuse any Brit-isms!**

Be My Downfall

 _And twenty miles away  
_ _She waits alone for me  
_ _But when I try to picture her  
_ _You're the one I see_

 _And when faced with temptation  
_ _You know a man should stand and fight  
_ _But you will be my downfall tonight_

 _(~ Del Amitri)_

* * *

 **2014 Global Initiative for Women's Health and Education International Symposium  
** **London, UK**

Confident. That's the word that comes to mind the first time he sees her. He's heard all about her, of course. Everyone who's anyone in politics has. Olivia Pope: Harvard and Yale alumnus, political powerhouse; ambassador for several high-profile national and international women's organizations including her own, set up while she was still in school. She is the youngest ever member to sit on UN Women's governing board and last year she leapt straight into the top ten on Forbes' _100 Most Powerful Women_ list.

All this and she's only in her mid-twenties.

She takes to the stage with her head held high and a smile on her face, and Fitz thinks that she looks so tiny up there in her pale gray suit. But as soon as she begins to speak it is clear there is nothing 'tiny' about Olivia Pope. There are almost a thousand people at the symposium - political leaders and women's rights activists from around the globe - and each one of them is hooked on her every word. Fitz himself is enraptured by her, as she talks of the work she is involved in, the lives she has seen changed and how far there is still to go. She is so passionate, so eloquent, so engaging. If he wasn't already sold on the cause he would be reaching for his wallet; pledging his time, his mind, his two bare hands. He's been in politics and human rights for fifteen years now and he is struggling to think of many others who are such great orators.

He knows instantly that he has to meet her, in person. There is something about her, an aura surrounding her which has him totally mesmerized. He's never come across anyone who has had such a profound effect on him before, but she's ticking every box on an internal list he didn't even know he possessed: confident, intelligent, feisty, strong. He knows she's a beautiful woman from the photographs and videos of her which appear in the media almost every single day, but in real life she is absolutely stunning. He wonders if he's the only man she is having this effect on, or whether that's part of her magic, her success. He can't wait to find out.

The day seems to drag, after her. Fitz can't seem to pay attention to any of the other presentations - whenever he thinks of a question he'd like to ask, he forgets it almost immediately. He chides himself that he's wasting his time and money being here if he's not making the most of the opportunity to learn, to discuss, to make acquaintances, but he doesn't feel bad because he knows he has time and money to waste now.

Now that he's told his wife he thinks they should take a break. Now that he's bought a one-way ticket to London, and given her no hint as to when - or even _if_ \- he might be home.

He doesn't manage to find Olivia in any of the coffee breaks and back in his hotel, as he gets dressed into his tuxedo for the evening dinner, he wonders whether he might never get the chance to be near her. He's always been confident, in himself and his abilities as a speaker, a leader, a political motivator, but with the decision to end his marriage has come a self-doubt he's never experienced before. Even though he used the phrase 'let's take a break', he's known for a long time that Mellie doesn't make him happy. In his own mind he's beginning to think of himself as single, eligible, _free_. And it's been so long - twelve years - since he was that man, he's not sure he remembers how.

At forty, he's well aware he's hitting 'midlife crisis' territory and it scares him. He was supposed to have the perfect life: handsome and well-built thanks to years of team sports; married to the pretty girl his parents approved of; successful career in a field which he truly believes in and making enough money to live well, very well. No kids though, and that's what's eating him. Mellie wanted to try, years ago, when she was not long out of law school with a good job in the City and no specific ambitions. But he felt the timing wasn't right: he travelled a lot, back then, for Unicef and the UN; seeing the world, learning where the true areas of need were, building the connections he would need to eventually start his own organization. And so his wife, clever and lonely, turned her attention to her career instead. And she was good - so good he began to lose count of her promotions, until their marriage and any notion of starting a family became her second priority.

And what kind of a man would he have been if he'd insisted she put her career on hold to have a baby? He could never do that to her, like his father did to his mother; like so many men do to their wives all over the globe, the wives he spends his days trying to help, to educate, to lift from poverty into a world where their talents _matter_. He and Mellie started out as friends and he hopes that's where they'll end up, eventually. But their lives just haven't synced together. They don't work, anymore. He doesn't know who she is, now, and she doesn't know him either.

And as for whether he still loves her, or whether he's free to consider the possibility of falling for someone else, well... he has no clue. Since he left her a month ago, he hasn't particularly noticed other women; hasn't thought about dating; hasn't considered what life would be like with someone new.

Until today.

He tells himself his plan for this evening is to have fun and to catch up with acquaintances he hasn't seen for years. But most of all, he wants to find Olivia Pope and work out what it is about her that has him so flustered; what it is that makes him want to kiss her, to explore her skin with his fingertips, to hear the sounds she makes when she's turned on. And then the self-doubt hits - why would she be interested in him? A forty-year-old man who's only recently left his wife; who is basically homeless and drinks too much and can't even remember the last time he had sex?

He downs the last of his scotch - cheap stuff from the mini bar that burns his throat, and not in a good way - before putting on his coat and heading out. On the short walk to the hotel where the dinner is being held, he gives himself a pep talk and by the time he arrives he's feeling more like himself again. He's smart, he's funny, he's charming; everyone likes him, especially ladies, so why wouldn't she? And even if she doesn't, it's not like it's the end of the world - she's just one woman.

Even if she's the most intriguing woman he has ever come across.

* * *

To his absolute delight, when he reads the table plan he finds they are seated next to one another at dinner. Her purse is on her chair but she's nowhere to be seen among to crowd, so he takes his seat and helps himself to a glass of red wine, watching people mill around. He sees Prime Ministers conversing with Presidents; the deputy leader of the UN laughing at something Malala Yousafzai has just said. He sees faces he recognizes and some he doesn't, and he's content to sit back and observe for a while. He introduces himself to the other people seated at their table as they each take their places, and they exchange pleasantries. Occasionally someone he knows comes over to say hello and they chat a little, catching up, commenting on the day's debates.

But Fitz can feel that he's on edge, just waiting for her to show up. His eyes scan the room constantly, searching for her. He knows he's acting rudely but he feels like a nervous teenager and he just can't help it. Then, when he finishes his conversation with a former Unicef colleague and turns back to the table, he suddenly finds that Olivia is sliding into the chair beside him. He catches the scent of her perfume and his mouth goes dry. Up close she is just _beautiful_ , and when she smiles at him and holds out her hand... it takes several seconds for him to remember where he is, and return the gesture.

"Hi, I'm Olivia. Pope."

He has to clear his throat. "Hi, Olivia... Fitz Grant."

"I know who you are."

Her smile - those perfect teeth and full pink lips; the way it lifts her gorgeous cheekbones - takes his breath away. He realizes he's still holding her hand but can't make himself let it go.

"You do?"

"Of course. I'm a great admirer. Your work in southern Ecuador is inspiring. I actually referenced quite a few of your papers in my Poli-Sci thesis." She looks down at their joined hands, then back up at him, and now she's smirking. "Is this your usual handshake?"

He lets go as if burned, but her amusement makes him smile too. "No. Sorry. I just... got distracted." The way she continues to smirk suggests that she knows exactly what was distracting him, but he valiantly pushes past it. "I'm honored, by the way, that you know me for my work and not just as my father's son. Normally all I get is 'Ah, Fitzgerald, Senator Grant's boy.'"

"Well, you just took my next words right out of my mouth."

She's still smiling and it makes his skin feel very warm. "Can I pour you some wine?" he asks, his manners ingrained from a young age - one of the few good things his father ever taught him.

"Red, please."

Fitz can feel her eyes on him as he fills her glass, and if he's not mistaken she seems to be checking him out. His skin heats further, and he thinks that these last sixty seconds since meeting her have been some of the most intense of his entire life. He wonders if this is the instant attraction described in books; the fated connection between two halves of the same soul. If someone was watching, would they be able to see the sparks of electricity fizzing between them? He is certain he can feel them, dancing from her body to his.

"So, Dr Grant," Olivia says, leaning towards him as he sits back in his chair, "Do you think they seated us together because we're both Yanks, or because we're the two hottest people in the room?"

 _Wow._ His suspicions are confirmed - she can feel it too. She can sense this magnetic field which is drawing them together, two strangers in a crowd of hundreds, somehow destined to meet here, tonight, at this exact point in time. Fitz just stares at her, completely entranced, and slowly her expression begins to change: from flirty and confident, her smile fades and her eyes widen until she looks just as stunned as he feels. Her brown eyes are so beautiful, so expressive. He feels like he can see all the way into her soul and he wonders whether she realizes that she's wide open, that she's letting him in.

Later, he might come to describe this as the moment he fell in love with Olivia Pope but, of course, he doesn't know that yet.

Not quite.

Eventually - is it seconds? Minutes? A lifetime? - Fitz tears his gaze away; clears his throat. His heart is hammering in his ears. What the hell is happening? He reaches for his wine, spilling some on the white cloth as he hastily raises it to his lips and takes a very long drink. He sees Olivia shake her head slightly, her gaze briefly settling on his left hand before she turns away, clearly trying to compose herself as she sips her own wine. When he rests his glass back on the table, she manages a smile and smoothes her skirt over her legs.

When they speak, it's at the exact same moment:

"So, you're married?"

"So, how's the wine?"

They both grimace, and then start laughing. Instantly the awkwardness is gone.

"I agree," Fitz chuckles, pushing his red aside. "Let me go and order us something much more suitable from the bar."

"Wait a minute mister," Olivia interjects as he's standing. "You can't make a face like that when I mention your marriage and then walk away! There's a story there, and I want to hear it."

Her flirtatious confidence is back in spades and she's so cute, looking up at him, that he has a sudden and very strong urge to lean down and kiss the mischievous smile off of her lovely face.

"It's very boring," Fitz shrugs, hyper-aware of the fact her mouth is exactly level with his crotch. "I'm not going to waste your time complaining to you about my marriage."

"Ah. Trouble in paradise?"

"There is no paradise. There hasn't been paradise for half a decade. I can't remember what paradise looks like anymore."

 _It looks like Olivia Pope_ , says a voice in his head and he needs to leave, to get away from her right now because he doesn't understand what's going on and he can't think when she's so close. He starts to walk away when she calls after him:

"I have to warn you, I'm a wine snob, born and bred. My father's cellar is something that has to be seen to be believed."

She's challenging him, and he smiles despite his inner turmoil. He can't help but smile at her - she's just so exquisite. "Don't worry, I know my way around a wine list. You won't be disappointed."

"I'm sure I won't."

* * *

He heads straight outside to the cool evening air, taking several calming breaths. He's never met anyone like Olivia Pope, and he understands now that his first impression of her was entirely right: she is extremely confident, in everything she does. It's the confidence of youth, of knowing she is beautiful, and smart - smarter than most of the people around her. She carries it easily, arrogantly even, and he is both surprised and thrilled to realize that that turns him on.

He knows he has two options tonight: to fight against this overwhelming chemistry or to go with it. And even as he thinks this, he knows that fight just isn't in him. He flirts a lot, every day - he's interested in women; he compliments them, makes them laugh - and it's natural and easy and harmless. He flirts because it's a part of who he is, and trying to override that instinct in the face of such an undeniable mutual attraction is just going to be impossible.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen? He's already left his wife, and he has no idea if Olivia is single but that's her business. What harm can it do to flirt with her, to have fun? She's an adult - albeit almost fifteen years younger than him - and he really has nothing to lose.

And so he orders the best bottle of red from the bar - a vintage Château Lafite, one of his favorites - and returns to his seat with a cool head and his most charming smile. Olivia is conversing with the person sat on her other side, but she quickly excuses herself and turns back to him with a similar smile.

"You were gone a long time."

He can see in her eyes that she knows exactly what he was doing, and that this amuses her. That in itself is flirtatious.

"It was a long wine list," he counters, leaning back in his chair and allowing himself to relax. He watches as her gaze slips from his face to trace the outlines of his body through his white shirt, before she recovers herself. She doesn't even have the decency to blush - she just grins when she realizes he's caught her looking.

"And what did you go for?"

"It's a surprise."

"Ah. I hate surprises," she confides, leaning towards him in that way she has which makes it seem like they're the only two people in the room. They might as well be, for all he cares.

"You're a control freak," Fitz states, and although he doesn't know why he's said it, he just knows it's true. He wonders if that's why she was so flustered earlier - she feels out of control around him, and she doesn't know how to cope with that.

She just laughs now. "It's rude to call a lady a 'freak', Fitzgerald."

"But are you?"

"Yes," she sighs.

"Well in that case," Fitz smirks, "I'm not sorry."

Olivia laughs again, harder this time. It's a soft sound, and husky, like she's smoked too many cigarettes. Her head falls back so her curls reach halfway down her spine, and Fitz feels his pants tighten - she is _unbelievably_ sexy. Desire, smoldering since the moment they met, suddenly bursts to life inside of him, flooding his veins, making his heart race and his head spin. Unbidden, images of her naked body fill his mind: all that chocolate brown skin, quivering beneath his hands; the way her hipbones create that inviting dip below her belly, where he'll spend a while teasing her with his mouth before slowly making his way lower…

"Your wine, Sir."

He is torn away from his thoughts - sinful, heavenly thoughts - by the arrival of a waiter. It's for the best, because he's well on his way to a full-blown erection and the last time he checked, that was not normal etiquette for a black tie charity event. Olivia is eyeing him curiously and he wonders if she knows what he's thinking about, if she can feel the heat radiating from him.

The waiter sets down new glasses and offers to pour Fitz a sample.

"The lady can taste," he says, gesturing to her. She smiles at him, clearly impressed.

"Such a gentleman," she remarks, and then notices the label on the bottle. "Wow, Château Lafite 1979. You _do_ have good taste."

"I told you. You didn't trust me?"

Her eyes twinkle at him over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. Fitz watches as the taste hits her tongue; as her eyes fall shut and a look of the purest pleasure settles on her features. He knows in that moment he wants to spend the rest of his life making her feel as good as this wine does - he wants to put the same look on her face and do everything in his power to keep it there forever.

"That is incredible," she murmurs, looking at him once again and he can see that he's climbing further up in her estimation with every passing minute.

" _You're incredible,"_ he wants to say but doesn't, because he's only known her ten minutes and - while it seems like a lifetime - he doesn't actually know anything about her. What inspires her? What is she afraid of? Who does she love, and why? Does she fall easily, or does her heart have to be earned?

The waiter fills their glasses and leaves, but Fitz barely notices. A thousand questions form in his mind and he wants to ask them all at once, in a rush. And then he realizes, as he watches her dainty hand brush her hair back from her face and wishes it was his hand instead, that he hasn't even complimented her on her earlier speech yet.

"My God, I'm such a jerk," he says suddenly. Her dark eyes widen in surprise, and then light up beautifully when he continues: "I haven't congratulated you on your presentation this morning. Liv, it was _fantastic_."

 _Liv._

It just rolls off his tongue, like he's been saying it his whole life. And she doesn't seem to mind, because her smile is radiant.

"Thank you. I don't usually get nervous but it suddenly hit me about thirty seconds before I went on. Could you tell?"

"Absolutely not - you were a rock star up there. You had the whole delegation hooked on your every word. I've never seen anything like it." Even in the dim light of the ballroom he can see the blush tinting her cheeks, just subtle enough to show she is flattered and not falsely modest. He doesn't think there is anything more gracious than a woman who can take a compliment, and he knows for sure that there isn't anything false about Olivia Pope. She is a genuine activist, wholeheartedly behind her cause, and she just radiates goodness. He doubts she's ever told a lie in her life.

They are interrupted by the arrival of several wait staff who begin to serve the first course. Fitz takes the opportunity to try his wine, and it is absolutely delicious.

" _Mm._ Fuck me, that's good."

She giggles, and it's the sexiest sound he's ever heard. He gazes at her, unexpectedly and totally awestruck - yet again. Then the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them:

"I love-"

Instantly heat rises in his face. _Oh fuck._

Olivia looks amused and intrigued, and his brain is rapidly trying to find something else to say as the silence grows. In the end, he draws a blank and offers her an embarrassed smile. She doesn't lie, and neither will he.

"Sorry. I was going to say I love your laugh. I just… I hope that's not inappropriate." He shrugs apologetically, and she reaches out to place her left hand over his right. It's their first touch, and suddenly all the electricity he has been sensing converges at the junction of their skin. He feels it travel to his chest like a bolt of lightening and he wonders how she can look so calm and collected when he's certain it has struck her too.

"That's not inappropriate, Fitz." Her palm is warm and soft on the back of his hand. She slides her fingers into the spaces between his and curls them, so she's holding onto him. "And if it is, then I don't think I want to be appropriate with you."

"Liv-"

"Tell me about your marriage."

He looks at her for a long moment, realizing that she is indeed serious about having this conversation, and then sighs. "I left her… about a month ago. I moved into a friend's spare room, then I bought a one-way ticket here and I haven't called her since."

Olivia is frowning, clearly processing a storm of thoughts all at once. It seems impossible but somehow it makes her even more beautiful. "What about you?" he asks. "Do you have someone back home?"

She shakes her head. "No… I got hurt, last time. I'm not… There's been no one since."

Despite how relieved he is to hear that she is single, he can sense heartache behind her words. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, but her smile falls away too quickly. "Are you?"

It's the first time since he walked out on Mellie that anyone has asked him if he's okay. And now that he thinks about it, he's not - not at all. He moves his hand from beneath hers, breaking their contact. He can't think straight when she's touching him.

"I'm fine," he tries to say, but he can't smile at all.

Olivia sees straight through him. "You're not," she says softly. "You're messed up. Your whole life has been turned upside down."

All he wants to do is keep staring at his plate, hiding from this woman who already knows all his secrets, but he forces himself to be strong, to make eye contact with her again. "I'm not fine," he admits with a shaky exhale, "But I will be. It was the right decision. I'm not in love with her any more."

It's the first time he's said out loud what he's slowly come to realize over the last few months. And with those words, his marriage is finally over. It's like a weight has been lifted, one he didn't even know he was carrying. Suddenly his doubts about whether he's done the right thing vanish: he no longer loves her, so he can no longer stay. It wouldn't be fair on either of them.

He doesn't know what it means that Olivia Pope has come into his life tonight; that she's intoxicating and confusing and the most exquisite woman he has ever met. He doesn't know how long it would have taken him to come to this conclusion without her, but he's certain that he would have in the end. Maybe it's all a coincidence, but maybe she was destined to sit beside him tonight. Maybe they were fated to meet so that she could remind him that life goes on for people whose marriages have failed; that happiness does still exist; that there are others he might love, again.

Olivia has begun to eat her starter, sensing he needs a little space to process. It's probably only a few minutes of silence between them but it feels like a lifetime when he finally clears his head and turns to her with a smile.

"I'm so sorry, Olivia. You're right, my life _is_ a mess right now. And whatever this is between us, it's... _insane_. I've never known anything like it before."

"Fitz- "

"No, let me finish. Please. I just… You are indescribably beautiful, and so incredibly smart. I could listen to you talk for the rest of my life: about women's rights, about red wine, about the weather. I could listen to you talk about anything and find it completely fascinating."

She smiles and reaches for his hand again; this time he doesn't let go.

"Can we start over, Liv? As friends?"

"Yes," she says softly. "Of course we can."

He grins at her, squeezing her hand, "As the 'two hottest people in the room' we should still be able to have a good time, right?"

She laughs. "Absolutely."

Fitz finally turns his attention to his soup, but Olivia speaks again as he's taking his first spoonful. "I just want you to know," she says slowly, obviously choosing her words with care, "That I feel this too. That you're handsome and charming, and I love how you make me laugh… And that this evening, meeting you, has been the most alive I've felt in years."

He looks at her for a long moment. "He really hurt you, didn't he?"

She nods, and although tears shine in her eyes she continues to hold his gaze. She is not afraid or embarrassed to be showing her emotions to him and Fitz marvels at how brave that is. "I don't know how anyone could hurt you," he murmurs, more to himself than to her, but she hears and it makes her smile again.

"You're so sweet. Thank you."

"Not as sweet as this soup. What is this?" he quips, and from then on the conversation just flows - anecdotes, jokes; stories from their careers, their lives. They continue to flirt but it feels safe, now that they've set the ground rules. He's getting to know her, focusing on what she's saying and not the way her mouth moves. It doesn't stop him wanting to kiss her every time he looks at her, but he can control himself now.

Just.

They are interrupted between courses by other delegates: friends or colleagues; occasionally an admirer, usually of Olivia's. She introduces him to everyone and he does likewise. No one seems to take much notice of how friendly they are, how flirty, although a few of his acquaintances ask after Mellie and he answers them honestly: she's fine, working hard, winning big cases. He glances at Liv, trying to gauge her reaction, but now that they're 'friends' she just smiles and gives nothing away.

After dinner there's a short speech from the Executive Director of UN Women, thanking them all for coming along tonight and reminding them of the schedule of events for the following day. "I told her that necklace would go best with her dress," Olivia whispers to him, and he just gazes at her in awe. What a woman.

They have coffee and then people gradually start to leave their tables - they head to the bar, outside for a smoke or they lurk at the edge of the dance floor, where the live band is just beginning. Fitz tries to play it cool by excusing himself from a group conversation and wandering around the room, chatting to various acquaintances, but no matter how often he tries to separate himself from her, they always seem to end up together again.

He's leaning against the bar, absentmindedly thinking about her bare legs and the way her white dress clings to her petite, curvy body when she taps his shoulder and raises herself onto the stool next to him.

"Hi, friend."

"Hi."

They grin at one another. It's not even been an hour but he's missed her, and he doesn't care how weird that is.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No, it's my turn," she insists. "What are you having?"

She eyes his tumbler and he holds it up towards her. " _This_ is Lagavulin 21. Arguably the best Scotch in the world. I couldn't believe they actually have it here - it's so rare to find it back home."

Olivia scrunches up her nose. "I hate whiskey."

"Ah, you say that, but have you ever tried it? And I don't mean JD and coke. I mean real whiskey, so rich and complex you can taste the peat, the oak, the Scottish highlands."

"Is it your guilty pleasure?" she teases.

"I don't know about guilty. I don't usually feel any remorse... until my hangover hits."

She laughs, and he's beginning to wonder how he ever lived without the sound. "So what guilty pleasures _do_ you have, Fitzy? What are your weaknesses?"

 _Fitzy_.

How does she make his childhood nickname sound so… _erotic?_

He tries to think about her question but he's distracted by the way she shifts so that her bare knee comes into contact with his thigh. Her skin feels unbearably hot through his pants, like it's burning him. He wonders how it would feel to have all her skin against his, soft and warm and trembling beneath him, and the thought makes desire curl deep in his belly once again. Despite their vow of friendship, she's still the sexiest woman he's ever met and he can't suddenly switch off his attraction to her. It's not only his mind he'd have to control - his entire body just reacts to her at the most primitive level, and overriding his most basic instincts would be simply impossible.

Besides, he's not sure he wants to.

When he eventually speaks, his voice is low and husky. "Seinfeld reruns. A social cigarette. Women who are smarter than me."

She returns his heated gaze, a hint of a smile curving her lips.

"What about you, Miss Pope?" he asks gruffly. "What are your weaknesses?"

"Red wine. A social cigarette." She pauses, her gaze traveling down the length of his body before slowly and deliberately rising to meet his again. "Men who know I'm smarter than them."

The urge to kiss her has never been so strong. He swallows, hard. "Olivia…"

He doesn't know what else to say because he _wants_ to tell her to kiss him, but something is holding him back. She's too sweet, too lovely for him, right now. She's too _good_ , and all he can think about is all the very _bad_ things he wants to do to her. He's afraid of breaking her; afraid of how desperately he craves her. He's afraid that if he has one taste he will never be able to give her up, even if that means dragging her down.

"Yes?"

She's closer than she was a second ago. When he takes a shaky breath, the scent of her hair, her perfume, her skin fills his lungs. He stares at her lips for a long moment and then, using every last drop of his willpower, draws ever so slightly away.

"We agreed to be friends," he says, his voice as shaky as he feels. "I'm messed up, remember? I'm no good for you right now. I'm no good for anyone."

She looks at him and he watches as comprehension - reality - slowly replaces the desire written on her gorgeous face. He instantly regrets his words.

"Liv-"

"No, you're right. I know that." She smiles, and she almost convinces him it's genuine. "I just… I missed you. I couldn't wait to talk to you again. That's weird, isn't it?"

"No."

He marvels at how they are more in sync after a few hours together than he and Mellie ever were in their twelve year relationship.

"Can I get you that drink?" she asks with a confidence that isn't quite all there yet, shifting in her seat so that they are no longer touching. He immediately misses her warmth; their connection.

"You know, I think I need a cigarette instead. Can I tempt you?"

He gives her his most charming smile, trying to reassure her that he is not totally rejecting her - that rejecting her is the last thing he wants to do, really - and this time when she smiles, it's real. "I shouldn't, but okay."

* * *

They head towards the terrace which overlooks the Thames. Fitz allows her to lead the way and then wishes he hadn't, because her dress is backless and he can't help but get turned on at the sight of her skin and the perfect contours of her bottom as she walks. It's dark outside, the sky a beautiful navy blue, and the area is lit by overhead lamps and strings of fairy lights which are wrapped around the railing.

Fitz is accosted almost immediately by a friend of his father's, but Olivia has already gone on ahead so he ends up stuck in a conversation about one of his least favorite people while forced to watch his new favorite negotiate two cigarettes from a group of young French activists. She smirks at him as she smokes the first, leaning back against the railing in his direct line of vision, and he's barely listening to what this guy is saying because she's sexy as _hell_ right now. He's fixated on her lips: the way they pout to inhale and then open just slightly as she breathes out again; the way her pink tongue darts out to moisten them every so often. His craving for a cigarette is gone - instead he wants to suck her tongue into his mouth, to taste the smoke on her. He wants to kiss her until it's all gone and she's just hot and wet and sweet and _Olivia_.

"Fitzgerald? You okay, buddy? Have you had one too many tonight?"

He shakes his head slightly, trying to find the present and at the same time longing to stay in his fantasy. "I'm fine," he says absently. Then he realizes how long he must have been staring because Olivia discards the cigarette butt in an ashtray and, with a cheeky smile, turns and walks away. She is instantly lost in the crowd. Fitz feels his heart racing and finally drags his gaze back to his father's friend who is staring at him.

"How's Melody?" Bill asks pointedly, and it's only then that it clicks - a friend of his father makes him a friend of Mellie's father as well, both of them members of Big Jerry's Old Boys' club. _Oh shit._

"She's fine," Fitz says, fully refocused on the task at hand. However he may feel about his wife, he does not want her to be disgraced or embarrassed by rumors about him playing away… even if they may yet prove to be true. "Sorry, Bill. I think that was Olivia Pope over there. I wanted to speak to her after her incredible speech today. Do you mind if I- ?"

Bill is frowning, clearly not convinced, but Fitz is already walking away. He disappears into the throng of people outside, all enjoying their own cigarettes or cigars in the cool September air. It's just seconds before he spots her, drawn to her by the same invisible force that's rendered them inseparable all evening. She's chatting to a group of people but he doesn't even pause to say hello as he takes her elbow and gently but firmly steers her back inside.

"We need to get out of here," he murmurs close to her ear, his free hand rising to hold her waist as he walks behind her. "I was almost busted by one of my father's friends just then."

"Busted?"

"He knows my wife."

"Oh."

She stops at the edge of the room and turns to face him. "Were you doing something wrong?" she asks, her face a picture of innocence, and he's surprised to feel a growl rise in his throat.

"You know exactly what I was doing, Olivia. What _you_ were doing, to me."

"I was just enjoying a smoke. We're friends, Fitz. Nothing more, remember?"

He steps closer and she tries to withdraw but her back is already against the wall. He can smell the smoke on her and it makes him lightheaded with longing. "You're making it very difficult to remember," he breathes, gazing down at her in the dim light, mere millimeters between their heated bodies.

"Maybe it's difficult to remember things that make no sense."

He groans.

She lifts her fingers to run them lightly down his chest. "I don't care if you're no good for me," she murmurs, her eyes dark and honest.

"I care," he whispers, unsure why he's still fighting her. He's never wanted anything more in his entire life, and yet he can't bring himself to surrender. Not here - not where he can feel Bill's presence. Not where there are cameras, political journalists, people who know them and might want to make them into a story.

"We need to leave," he says again, lifting her hand from his chest and briefly squeezing it before placing it back by her side. "Let's get your coat."


	2. What Are You Gonna Do To Me?

**Ahh, thanks so much for all the lovely feedback - it means the world.  
**

* * *

"My friend Stephen owns a bar in London…"

"Whereabouts? London is a _very_ big place."

They're wandering along the sidewalk, halfheartedly looking for somewhere to get a drink under the ongoing (and, frankly, infuriating) pretense of being 'friends' when all they really want to do is go back to a hotel room and fuck each other's brains out. At least, that's exactly how Fitz feels, and he's certain he's not misinterpreting the blatant desire written all over Olivia's face.

"I can't remember. Wait a minute."

She stops to dig her phone out of her purse and then makes a call. "Stephen, it's Liv… I'm fine, how are you? … I know, it's been far too long… Oh, shut up! You're such a flirt. Listen, I'm finally in London and I was wondering if… No I just want a drink, you pervert! What's the address of your bar?"

Fitz finds he doesn't like the sound of her laugh when it's for another man. Jealousy he has no right to feel rises inside him.

"Soho Square," she repeats, looking at him to confirm he knows where that is. He nods, changing their direction. "We'll see you soon," she says into her phone before hanging up.

"Who's Stephen?" he asks, uncaring that his tone is sharper than necessary. He can sense her staring at him as she struggles to keep up with his stride.

"You're jealous," she says, humor evident in her voice, and he can't argue with her. "Oh my god! Fitz, Stephen and I went to Yale together. He's like my brother; my flirt-with-anything-that- _moves_ brother. And even if he was an ex-boyfriend or a fuck buddy or whatever, why would you be jealous, _friend?_ "

He eyes her suspiciously. "Cute," he smirks. "That's very cute, Liv."

"What is?"

"The way you're trying to trick me into admitting I'm-"

"...What?"

He sighs. "I'm not playing this game. You're too good at it."

Now she is the one smirking. "I like being told I'm good at things. Do I get a gold star?"

"No."

"Fitz!"

"No. And stop pouting."

She laughs, another of those moments where she throws her head back in total abandon and Fitz has to fight the urge to pin her against the wall with his hips and graze his teeth against the sensitive skin of her throat. He's not sure how they're going to make it to the bar when he's so distracted by her he's barely concentrating on where they're going, and she reveals that this is her very first time in London.

"It's an amazing city," he tells her, relieved to have found a topic which isn't overflowing with sexual undertones. "I spent nine months here studying and I fell in love with it. I come back at least once a year."

"And now you live here."

He frowns at her, before realization dawns. "I suppose I do. But don't tell the Immigration Department - my visa is business only. I might get thrown in the Tower of London and beheaded in front of the Queen."

He loves that he can make her laugh. "I don't think you're that important," she teases, but her eyes tell him another story.

When they arrive in Soho they find that the place they're looking for is a rooftop bar, accessed by several flights of stairs. At the top, Olivia gives the bouncer her name and they are allowed to enter. Inside it's busy, packed full of Saturday night drinkers. The room is small and dark, all green leather and soft amber lighting, and the music is just low enough to allow for conversation. He can see over the crowd that the back wall opens onto a terrace.

After their coats are taken to the cloakroom by a member of staff, they make their way to the bar. The wall behind is stacked floor to ceiling with bottles on glass shelves and Fitz can't help but laugh when they get close enough to read the labels.

"What's so funny?"

"Liv, it's a whiskey bar - look."

She peers up and then turns to him, looking annoyed and adorable. "Let's go somewhere else."

"What about _Stephen_?"

He feels her elbow in his side. "Shut up."

The couple in front of them leaves with drinks in hand, allowing Fitz to guide her to the counter. They are right at the end of the bar next to the wall, and facing her with his back to the room in the low light it seems very private, as if they're in a world of their own. She perches on a stool and studies the cocktail menu while he quickly comes to realize he's in some kind of heaven. Maybe this Stephen isn't so bad after all.

"Ooh, they have vodka. I'm going to have a Cosmopolitan."

"No you're not." Fitz takes the menu from her and closes it, trying to ignore the way her indignant expression makes his cock twitch. "I am going to get you into real whiskey. This is the perfect place."

"But-"

"But nothing. Just trust me on this."

"Why?"

 _"Why?"_

"Why should I trust you? What are you gonna do to me?" She's teasing him again, smiling with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. Instinctively he reaches out, using his thumb and index finger to gently push down on her chin. As her mouth opens she automatically retracts her tongue and he then closes her jaw again.

"Don't do that," he growls. "And don't ask _why_ ," he adds when she starts to protest.

They're caught in one another's gaze, hot and expectant. He traces his thumb over her lower lip. He can already read her expressions like a book: right now she feels amused, powerful and aroused.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asks again, her sweet voice rougher than he's ever heard it. Her breathing is becoming more irregular with every passing second.

Fitz considers her, studying her beautiful face. "Everything," he murmurs, unable and unwilling to control what he's saying in a moment which is so intimate, so nakedly honest. "I want to do everything to you, in every position, with every part of my body."

Her pupils dilate and the air shifts, suddenly heavy with sexual tension stronger than anything they've created so far. Fitz holds his breath, desperate to hear her reaction to his confession. After a long minute where she simply stares at him, she opens her mouth to speak - but at that very moment they are interrupted.

"Olivia Pope!"

It takes her a second to react - a second which feels like forever, given the circumstances - before she turns to greet her friend across the counter.

"Stephen, hi."

Fitz can hear the desire weighing down her voice; can see that her chest is still rising and falling rapidly. She quickly and subtly brushes her hand down his thigh, squeezing briefly just above his knee, and he _knows_ \- his words haven't freaked her out, they've turned her on. Emboldened by this, as he turns to face the bar he raises his right hand and brings it to rest on her lower back. It could just be a familiar gesture between friends but from the way she tenses at his touch, she knows better - as does he.

"How are you Liv? And who's this?"

Stephen is looking between them, his senses not yet adjusted to the unusual energy surrounding them. When Olivia doesn't speak - and her distraction makes Fitz smirk - he offers his own introduction.

"Fitz Grant."

"Stephen Finch."

He has to remove his right hand from her back to shake Stephen's, and when he returns it, he places it slightly higher so his thumb is now on her bare skin. He feels her shiver and it makes him hard. Touching a woman in public who is not his wife makes him hard and it shouldn't, but he has just passed the point of caring.

"This is a great place," Fitz says, trying to be polite when all he really wants to do is focus back on Olivia, to hear her thoughts on his earlier words.

"Thanks. You're a whiskey drinker?"

"Absolutely."

Stephen grins and Fitz finds that he likes the guy, despite his unintentional intrusion on the most exciting night of Fitz's life so far.

"Olivia hates whiskey. She was always a vodka girl, which I never understood. No character, no real flavor."

Their chat seems to have allowed her to regain some of her wits, because now she smiles at her friend. "It doesn't need to have flavor when you put it in a cocktail. If I want a drink with _flavor_ , I turn to my old friends Merlot, Rioja and Pinot Noir."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "You were always the wine snob, even when we first met. How old were you then, nineteen?"

She turns to Fitz, her dark eyes alive with humor but still smoldering unmistakably with lust. "Once, when I was about five or six, my mother caught my father letting me try his wine. It was a 1972 French Merlot and it tasted like chocolate. I can still remember the look of horror on her face, and how I came downstairs the next morning to find my dad asleep on the couch."

"Well," Fitz says lightly, "not every mother wants to raise a child with an alcohol problem." He lifts his hand a little higher to touch more of her bare skin, slowly stroking his thumb back and forth across her spine. The shivers are coming thick and fast now, making her fidget in her seat.

"So, what can I get you two to drink?" Stephen claps his hands together, regaining their attention. "On the house, of course." Fitz can see now that he is starting to catch on to the vibe between them: his eyes narrowed ever so slightly; a smirk playing on his lips.

"I'd love to try your favorite Scotch," Fitz says, and then speaks for Olivia too. "And Liv will have a Cosmopolitan - but _only_ if she agrees to try my drink first."

Despite the haze of arousal clouding her gaze, she manages to look affronted. "I don't want to try your whiskey. I don't like it."

"You don't know that yet. Remember what I said - you need to _trust me_."

"Fitz…"

He is vaguely aware that Stephen has retreated to make their drinks, and no doubt to give them a moment alone as well.

"…What are you doing? I thought we were just friends?"

She's not angry, but she's clearly confused and he can't blame her. He's been sending mixed signals all night. It's just… here, in this bar, among a crowd of strangers, with her exquisite body so responsive to his touch, his reservations are slipping away by the second. Why is he denying himself? He's still married, but on paper only. He's not trying to deceive his wife, to start an affair, to play away and then go back home and pretend it never happened. He's just… trying to be happy, for the first time in a long time. If she was just a pretty girl, he might be able to turn around and leave, even now. But he has this formidable feeling, deep in his gut, that Olivia Pope is special; that they were somehow destined for one another.

And he knows without a shadow of a doubt that if he walks away now, he will regret it until the day he dies.

"I thought so too," he sighs, his hand sliding down her back and around to rest on her hip. She's so warm, so sexy, and it's not enough. Touching her through her clothes won't ever be enough. "But I'm starting to forget the reasons why… Why did we agree on that?"

Stephen returns before she can answer, passing their drinks across the counter. "Here you go. This is Isle of Ismay Special Reserve. It's the best there is, in my humble opinion."

Fitz thanks him, lifting the glass first to the light and then to his nose. He's had this particular vintage before, a few years ago, and he remembers how excellent it is. The aroma is heavenly, but he's too distracted by Stephen's conversation with Olivia to fully appreciate it as he should.

"How long are you in town for, Liv? I'm afraid I've got to go and sort out an issue with tomorrow's delivery. Can we catch up another time?"

His gaze flicks between the two of them and Fitz knows there's no such delivery issue. Still, he's immeasurably grateful to Stephen in that moment.

"Of course. I'm here until Tuesday. I'll give you a call."

Stephen leans over the bar to kiss her cheek. "Be careful," he says, just loud enough for Fitz to hear. His gaze falls briefly onto Fitz's wedding ring before he smiles, and there's nothing malicious in his face - he's just looking out for his friend.

"Nice to meet you, Fitz. If you're ever in town again, come by and we can share a wee dram or two."

"I will do, thanks. Good to meet you too."

As soon as he's gone, Fitz turns to Olivia at the same time she turns to him, moving her whole body ninety degrees towards him on her seat. In their small space in the crowded bar, her knees are pressed against his thighs. He can smell her perfume again and it raises the hairs on the back of his neck. She lifts her martini glass to her lips, her eyes not leaving his, but he takes it from her and returns it to the counter.

"Uh uh. You're trying this first, remember?"

He holds out his tumbler which she eyes skeptically, making him chuckle at her adorable expression. "Just try it." He takes a sip himself, letting the alcohol flood his senses. It's even better than he remembers: the high and low notes, the taste of the oak; the slow burn at the back of his throat. "Mm. This is another of the finest whiskies in the world."

There is such blatant desire in Olivia's gaze now. He wonders if his expression was anything like hers when he watched her sip their Château Lafite before dinner. The memory adds more fuel to his simmering erection, and they're so close together she need only lift her hand towards him and she'd be touching it.

He watches, enraptured, as her gaze slowly falls towards his glass. She reaches for it, but instead of taking it from him she dips her index finger into the amber liquid and raises it to her mouth. Her eyes lock in on his again and suddenly there's nothing simmering - he's on _fire_.

"Do that again," he murmurs, his voice impossibly husky.

She does, but this time he takes her wrist in his free hand and brings her finger to his own lips. When he sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her, her eyes fall closed as her head tilts back. He barely hears her breath catch in her throat over the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. God, she's so sweet. It's his first taste of her and he knows it won't be his last: he will devour every single inch of her.

"Finest in the world," he says again, pressing a kiss to her fingerprint before downing the rest of his drink in one go and discarding the glass on the bar, his gaze never leaving her face.

He lets his hands come to rest on her thighs. He's so aroused after having her in his mouth that he can't see anything but the shape of her body: the curve of her breasts, her tiny waist; the perfect width of her hips. He could fuck her in this position, if she opened her legs. He could slide his hands over her smooth skin, pushing up her dress; revealing her heat, her scent, her silky wetness. He wonders what panties she's wearing, and then imagines that she's not wearing any at all.

He can't remember ever being this hard before in his entire life.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he confesses, and there's so much longing in his voice. He's leaning in towards her, unable to stop himself; so close to just grabbing her and fucking her right here, right now.

" _Fitz."_

 _Fuck._ The way she moans his name is too much. He grips her legs, their mouths just inches apart now. In a last-ditch attempt to regain some of his control, he closes his eyes and tries to think of _anything_ to distract himself, to calm his blood.

"Do you still have that second cigarette?"

He looks at her again and she's nodding. He thinks he can see relief on her face and he knows exactly how she feels - they both need a minute to be able to breathe again. "Let's go outside."

It's almost midnight and fully dark, but this terrace is also illuminated by lamps. It's busy out here, too. The view of the London skyline would be magnificent if only either of them had the capacity to appreciate it.

Instead he leans against the railing and watches as Olivia approaches a group of well-dressed young men. "Hey guys, can I trouble you for a light? My husband's lighter just broke."

And then it happens: the universe suddenly diverges in front of him. He sees his life displayed before him - a life with Olivia Pope as his wife. He could run for Governor, Senator, _President_ with her by his side. She would become his First Lady. Every night he would get to go home to her: to undress her; to make love to her; to curl his body around hers as they sleep. He even imagines how she would look pregnant with his child: dressed in a tank top and shorts, straddling his lap on their couch; sliding her fingers into his hair and giggling as he kisses her neck, her chest, her baby bump.

He's simultaneously so desperately sad and so aroused he thinks he might explode.

"Why did you tell them I'm your husband?"

He sounds like he's about to cry and it's so embarrassing to be unable to contain himself; to have all his emotions, all his flaws, displayed right in front of her.

"Because…" She shrugs. "They're drunk City boys, and I didn't want them to hit on me."

She takes a drag of the cigarette but he snatches it from her, his need far greater. He's so agitated his hands are shaking. When he raises it to his lips and inhales, it's still moist from her mouth - and that's the end of everything he's ever known.

He clutches her bare arms, pulling her closer, careful not to burn her. "Tell me to stop and I'll stop," he says hoarsely, and this is it: the deep breath before the plunge. It's her last chance to escape, and he has to offer her that because he's terrified of the inferno he's about to release. It will be hot and frantic and utterly uncontrollable, and who knows what it will leave in its wake.

After this, it's a new world for them both.

"Just say the word, Livvie."

"No," she breathes, and the very last of her armor falls away. Looking into her eyes he can see all of her: every atom, every thought, every desire.

He can see himself, and it makes him brave.

"Fuck the cigarette," he growls. He tosses it to the floor and then he's kissing her.


	3. My Place Or Yours?

**A/N:** **So, your feedback has been completely overwhelming. I can't thank you all enough for your amazingly kind comments. I LOVE hearing your thoughts, particularly those of you who picked out a certain line that you liked. To those who had queries, I think this will answer most of them.**

 **To be honest this chapter has taken a little while because I've been desperate to live up to the success of the first two, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. I wasn't going to cut this off where I did, but it just got too long! So this is _definitely_ TBC. **

**And to the reviewer who wanted to see Liv's POV, I am considering an Epilogue...**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 _"Fuck the cigarette," he growls. He tosses it to the floor and then he's kissing her._

Does anyone else realize, up here on the rooftop under the starlit sky, that marriage vows are being broken? That shattered hearts are being mended, right now, as the seconds tick by? That two souls are coming together, aligning all their jagged edges to find that they're a perfect fit?

It seems momentous to Fitz, as he kisses her on and on and she just melts against him; as the night fades, the music stops, the people around them disappear. It's not only the culmination of an evening of flirting, of undeniable chemistry - it feels like the defining point of his life, the point to which everything else he's ever done has led. It feels like coming home, to a place he didn't even know he was searching for. And it's just… it's everything.

This woman in his arms is _everything_.

Her mouth is warm, wet and soft as silk. The way she slides her tongue against his makes him burn up with lust. Every so often she bites on his bottom lip, tugging gently with her teeth, and he needs to be closer to her but he can't - it's physically impossible, at least here. He can't hold her any more tightly; can't get beneath her clothes, her skin, where he wants to be most of all. He thought that getting to talk to her, to make her laugh, to admire her in all her beauty was a privilege, but having her in his arms and finally being able to _ravish_ her makes him feel so lucky - and so unbelievably _horny_.

With all the anticipation they've built up he always knew that finally kissing her would be explosive, but she's a million times more arousing than he'd ever dreamed. His entire being just aches for her. Every time she whimpers or moans - and she's amazingly vocal - his hips flex uncontrollably, pushing his rock-hard erection further into her belly. He feels her shudder from head to toe and her fingernails dig deeper into his neck, his lower back. Their tongues are at war; his nose is crushed against her cheek; his hands buried in her hair. They're trying to be _in_ one another, already, in any way they can.

And it's not enough - not even close.

It might be two minutes, or five, or twenty five before they first break for air. Fitz trails his lips along her jaw, peppering her with kisses. He nibbles on her earlobe and there's something about the way she says his name - _"Fitz,"_ all breathy, somehow turning the hard sounds soft - which makes his chest hurt. Olivia Pope is in his arms, submitting to him with every sigh, whispering his name so sweetly and it shouldn't make him feel so content - not yet - but it does, and he doesn't care.

He draws back and claims her mouth again, sweeping his tongue inside, tasting her; _devouring_ her. Kissing her has already become innate: he _has_ to; he can't _not_. One evening together and she's hardwired into his nervous system, his reflexes, his very bones. He could do this forever; he thinks he might well, given the chance.

This time they only stop kissing when they're dizzy, crying out for oxygen. Their chests rise and fall together in synchrony, fulfilling their most basic of needs. It surprises Fitz, that he has to breathe, because for a moment he'd almost forgotten he was human. He gazes down at Olivia, waiting for her eyelids to flutter open. After a few seconds they do and her eyes are dark, stormy, molten. She wants this as much as he does, there's no question.

He touches the tip of his nose to the tip of hers. "Let's go," he says softly, and she's already speaking over him:

 _"Yes."_

He takes her hand and practically drags her back inside, unapologetically forcing his way through the crowd. Olivia stops as they pass the bar, pulling him back to her. "I'll ask one of the staff to call us a taxi," she says, still trying to catch her breath, and he wonders how she can be thinking so coherently, let alone speaking, when his mind is on a single track back to his hotel room.

He follows her to the counter, holding onto her hand the whole time. He knows his desire for her is written all over his face and ordinarily he would be embarrassed to feel so turned on in a room full of strangers but tonight, he just doesn't give a damn. "It'll be ten minutes," she tells him, and his expression is obviously as intense as he thought because her cheeks color and a shy smile forms on her lips; a smile he just has to kiss.

 _Innate._

She collects her coat and carries it down the stairs, draped over her arm. Fitz walks behind her, loosening his bow tie, undoing the top button of his shirt. He stares at her bare skin as she descends, imagining all the places he's going to put his mouth and the way her back will arch so invitingly when he does. He doesn't know how he's going to survive seeing her completely naked when even a small piece of her silky brown skin has him so excited.

It's a busy Saturday night in Soho, the streets bustling, a cacophony of bass music and excited chatter filling the cool air. Fitz takes Olivia's coat and holds it out for her to put on. Then he turns her in his arms and begins to fasten the buttons but she stops him, holding both his hands. As their eyes meet again there's something new in hers, something that makes his heart pound: _hesitation._

She can't do this now. She _can't_.

"You're married," she says quietly and it's not an accusation; there's no emotion in her clear voice. It's simply a statement of fact, and he realizes she's giving him an out, even now. Unfortunately, he couldn't take it even if he wanted to. He's completely under her spell. He's too in lust to ever go back to life before Olivia Pope.

"I'm separated," he says, his voice equally steady. "You heard what I said before: I don't love her any more. I _am_ going to divorce her. My marriage is nothing to do with this." He gestures between them. "Are you… okay with that?"

She bites her lip and he wants to kiss her again - hard.

"Are you?" she finally asks, and there's a battle going on behind her beautiful eyes, one he desperately hopes will end in his favor. He steps even closer, sliding his palms down her body and around her hips to the small of her back where he pulls her against him. She gasps, her head tilting back.

"I don't think I have a choice, around you," he admits, his voice taking on that hoarseness which seems to be a direct result of her proximity.

He waits, then: for the war to end; for her to make the first move, this time. He understands her dilemma: she's a good person, about to do a bad thing to a woman she's never even met. But this is an extraordinary situation, and he meant what he said - there's no choice here. They didn't choose one another; didn't choose to fall so hard, so fast. They're just _meant to be_ , and he knows Olivia feels the pull just as strongly as he does.

Her dark eyes are rapidly scanning his face, searching for something, and he doesn't know what it is exactly but she seems to have found it when she finally says: "I don't, either."

Her gaze travels down to his lips, her tongue peeking out to lick her own. Then, ever so slowly, she rises to press her mouth to his. It's tender, at first; soft and sweet, like her. Fitz automatically grips her tighter, still allowing her to have control, but as time passes it becomes more and more difficult not to kiss her harder, deeper, more desperately. Their passion is simmering just below the surface but he can feel it straining to break free, to burst open the dam, especially when he squeezes her ass and she arches so helplessly into him. With a groan which disappears into her mouth, he slides his left hand back up her body, hidden beneath her coat. Caressing her breast for the first time, he feels that her nipple is already hard beneath his thumb. His touch seems to set her alight and she moans again, louder than before.

"I'm so wet for you Fitz," she breathes, kissing his cheek, his chin, the corners of his lips. "You're so sexy. I've never been this wet before."

" _Fuck_ , Livvie."

He raises his hand to hold her jaw, gently keeping her back so he can look at her as he speaks. "I can't wait much longer to get you naked," he says quietly, truthfully; reveling in the desire painted all across her gorgeous face. "I'm going to taste you, to find out just how wet you are. I'm going to eat you out until you come for me over and over, pretty girl."

The noise she makes now is something he's never heard before - half whimper, half gasp. Whether it was his words or simply the whole situation, she looks stunned: he's stunned her. He wonders if men her own age have ever said things like that to her, or if he's the first. He hopes he is.

He hopes he'll be the last, too.

They're interrupted by a shout from behind them: "Taxi for Olivia!"

"That's us."

Fitz has to tug on her hand to get her to move and it makes him smirk. "What's the matter?" he teases as she shakes her head slightly, coming back to reality. "You wanted to know what I was gonna do to you. Can't you handle it?"

He opens the car door for her but instead of climbing inside she suddenly reaches up and kisses him, grabbing his face with both hands, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. It only last seconds; she finishes by pulling his bottom lip between her teeth, and it's the hottest kiss he's _ever_ had. It leaves him gasping for air… for _her_.

"I can handle whatever you have, Fitzy," she says, trailing her fingers briefly down his body and across his straining erection. Her touch makes his blood boil and her grin is so sexy, so confident once again, that he growls as he moves her hand out of the way.

"Get in the damn car," he commands, and the authoritative tone of his voice surprises even him. He's never bossed his wife around like this before - he's not a bossy person. But then, in twelve years Mellie has never made him anywhere _near_ as sexually frustrated as he is right now. He never craved her like this, not even in the beginning. He's never craved anything or anyone like this. How has he lived for forty years and not been _alive_ until now?

"Where to?" The taxi driver asks, and Fitz looks at Olivia as he slides into the backseat beside her.

"Where are you staying?" they say at the same time.

"The De Vere," she tells him, laughing, and he feels his eyebrows rise.

"Me too."

As they set off she snuggles up beside him, sliding her small hand into his. "This is too weird," she murmurs, and Fitz smiles.

"I know. Are you stalking me? Did you arrange for us to sit together at dinner because you thought I was hot? I know you're in there with all the big shots - you could have easily influenced the table plan."

She shrugs slightly, humor dancing in her eyes. Then he feels her lips on his neck, followed by the tip of her tongue as she kisses her way up to his ear. "And what if I did? I'd hope you wouldn't be complaining."

Fitz turns to capture her mouth again. _"Never."_

Heat rises between them once more; wild, insatiable. Hands roam now as they kiss and he lets Liv press her palm against the front of his pants, slowly massaging him as his hips rise up towards her; seeking more, demanding more. He can only stand it for a minute though, because it's too fucking good and he's going to come if she carries on.

He lifts both her arms around his neck, kissing her extra hard for reassurance, and returns to his exploration of her breasts which are so firm in his hands, her nipples so sensitive; a perfect fit. She's almost sat on top of him now. Her fingers slide into his hair, her nails grazing over his scalp, and it raises goose bumps all over his body.

"Fitz, we need… condoms," she says breathlessly between kisses, as she grinds her pelvis against his.

It takes a little while for her words to penetrate the haze of arousal filling his brain. With a groan, he manages to tear his mouth away and then gently move her off of him. They look at one another in the low light of passing street lamps, both disheveled and panting. Fitz's heart is racing, a hundred miles an hour.

"You look so hot right now," he admits, and she does.

"You look like a hot mess."

"I feel like one."

She laughs, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back against the seat. Fitz wants to dip his tongue into the hollow above her collar bone; to feel her tremble with longing.

He leans forward and slides open the glass panel which separates them from the driver. "Can we stop at an overnight store? Thanks."

As he closes the partition and sits back, Olivia begins to move toward him again but he holds out his hand. "No, you stay over there. I need to be able to walk."

She pouts, and she's fucking adorable.

"What did I tell you about pouting?"

"Nothing. You just told me not to."

He wants to be annoyed with her for being so pedantic but in reality, he's charmed. She's quick-witted, funny, silly. Maybe it's because she's so young or maybe it's just her, but he loves it. She could antagonize him all day long and he'd still want to rip off her clothes at the end of it.

They stop a minute later and Fitz quickly exits the car, needing air and space to quiet his raging hormones. He buys two packs of condoms, some cigarettes and a lighter. Back outside, he opens the passenger door and leans in to speak to the driver. "You okay to wait while I have a smoke?"

"Course. Meter's running, makes no difference to me."

"Thanks."

Olivia opens the back door as he's taking his first inhale, letting the smoke, the heat, the chemicals fill his senses; instantly soothing him. He understands why this is addictive, and is glad he can limit himself to occasions involving alcohol… and, now, Olivia Pope.

"No," he tells her (again). He points towards the taxi as she comes forwards. "You get back in the car."

So _bossy_.

She grins as she defies him, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist. She is irritatingly cute and Fitz sighs, running a hand through his hair. "This was supposed to calm me down, to get some blood back to my _brain_."

Olivia says nothing, just wiggles her hips against his and pouts again. He rolls his eyes but puts the cigarette between her lips, letting her breathe in. She turns her face to the side to exhale, and as soon as she looks back he's kissing her again - _fiercely_. She's so fucking sexy, he can't do anything else.

They barely smoke half the cigarette between scorching kisses. Eventually Fitz gives up altogether and bundles her back into the car, settling her sideways across his lap. He trails his mouth to the soft skin of her neck, finally discovering the way it makes her whole body shiver. His left hand drifts up her thigh, steadily disappearing beneath her dress as she buries her fingernails in his bicep and whimpers softly next to his ear. When he reaches her lacy panties and they're soaking wet, a fresh wave of desire courses through him, making him groan and twitch his hips.

 _"Fuck_. _"_

"I told you," she whispers.

He wants to kiss her again but doesn't, because that would be the end of decency.

Fitz barely remembers arriving at their hotel, paying the driver, crossing the lobby. They're so close to their final destination that the rest of the world has started to fade away. Money, manners, appearances - they're all inconsequential now. The only thing that matters is getting Olivia alone, and getting her naked.

"My place or yours?" she asks playfully as they wait for the elevator, smiling up at him with her arms linked around his waist once more.

"I really don't care, as long as it has a bed. And a floor," he adds as an afterthought. "And some walls, and a shower."

Olivia's dark eyes become even more so. He feels her hand slip down to squeeze his butt. "We're not going to get much sleep tonight, are we?"

He smirks as he tenderly brushes her hair back from her face. "Not if I can help it."

They are joined by another couple when they enter the elevator.

"Which floor?" The man asks, and Fitz glances to Olivia.

"The Presidential suite, please," she says with a smile. He raises his eyebrows and that smile becomes a grin. "What?"

"Someone's important. And extravagant."

"Of course," she replies lightly, her voice quiet so as not to disturb their companions. "Actually, Time magazine paid for the room because I'm doing an interview with them here on Monday afternoon." She reaches up and runs her fingertip along the curve of his jaw before asking sweetly: "Don't you think I'm worth it?"

Fitz grabs her hips and turns her, pulling her back against him. Her ass fits perfectly into the cradle of his pelvis and he holds her there, tightly, so she can feel every inch of him. "Of course you are." His voice is barely audible but with his lips on her ear, she hears every word. "You're worth the fucking _moon_ , Livvie."

He nuzzles the side of her neck, his hands splayed on her abdomen. She's trembling, whether because of his breath on her sensitized skin or his unrelenting erection against her lower back or his restless little finger which is drawing circles just millimeters from her clit - or, most likely, a combination of all three.

It feels like far too long until the other couple alights at their floor, and Fitz is finally alone with her for the very first time. The elevator doors close but it doesn't move, and glancing at the display he sees why.

"Do you have your room card, _Madam President_?"

"What? Oh, yeah." She opens her purse and it seems to take her a long time to find what she's looking for - no doubt the fact her hands are visibly shaking isn't helping. Eventually she retrieves it and Fitz keeps hold of her, walking them both forward towards the display so she can swipe her card and enter her four digit code.

His behavior makes her giggle and once again he can't believe he's lived for so long without the sound of her laughter. As the elevator begins to ascend, Olivia wriggles in his embrace and he allows her to turn around to face him. She lifts her arms to his shoulders and presses herself up against him at the same time he pins her to the wall. There's not an iota of space between them and Fitz can feel her heat, her warmth; every yielding curve of her perfect body.

She smiles at him and he feels breathless. "You are so beautiful," he says, astounded by the truth of his words.

"So are you," she replies cutely. He can't help but smile back at her.

"So," she continues, "we're all alone, at last…"

"Mmhmm."

He leans down, closing the distance between them. His eyes fall shut and he lets his lips dance above hers, barely touching. Her breathing is becoming heavier by the second; he can feel her heart pounding against his chest. She whimpers, her fingers twisting into his curls as they share the same air, the same space in the fabric of the universe. If anyone was looking from far away they'd seen one person here, not two.

The anticipation finally becomes too much and this time when they kiss, they don't stop. He kisses her out of the elevator, his tongue buried deep in her mouth; she devours him as she pushes off his jacket, pulls apart his shirt. She shrugs off her coat before he lifts her into his arms; she wraps her legs around him, her skirt rising all the way to her waist. Fitz carries her to the nearest wall, pressing her into it so he can free his hands to glide up her body, to knead her breasts, making her moan even more throatily. Their hips have already begun a slow dance, all rhythm and grind, and the orgasm he's been holding back all night is threatening to overwhelm him. She's just exquisite, in every possible way.

"Where's the bedroom?" he asks gruffly, not waiting for a reply before ravishing her again. The way she pulls his hair is so erotic he wants to crawl out of his skin.

"That… way," she manages to utter, which is no help at all.

He lowers her feet to the floor, trailing his lips to her throat, her breasts, her flat stomach. When he kneels down and lifts her dress to place an open-mouthed kiss right on her center, her back arches so violently she moves off the wall as she cries out his name.

 _"Fitz!"_

"This needs to come off," he commands impatiently, tugging on her dress as he kisses her clit again, gently sucking her into his mouth. Her panties are white lace and soaking wet, her thin strip of dark hair visible beneath, and he wants them gone more than he's ever wanted anything. He rises, desperate to eat her but also eager to tease. She's going to be heavenly when she comes - and he's planning on many encores - but he needs her first to be incredible, to be everything she deserves and more. He wants her begging, writhing; _crazy_ with lust for him.

Olivia turns so he can unzip her and faces him again as her dress falls to the carpet. He's never seen anything so beautiful: the swell of her breasts, her dark chocolate nipples hard beneath matching white lace; her tiny waist and the cute dip of her navel; hip bones which disappear invitingly beneath the waistband of her panties; her shapely legs, lengthened by her silver heels. And above all, miles and miles of luminous brown skin. He wants to touch every inch of her all at once but that will have to wait for later, because now isn't the time for exploring beyond all the ways she's going to scream when he makes her fall apart.

"Bedroom," he says again, and this time it's not a question.

When their eyes meet hers are now black with desire. "This way."

She takes his hand and leads him further into the suite, switching on lamps as she goes. Halfway across the living area she stops to take off her shoes and Fitz chuckles as she struggles to keep her balance on one foot at a time, even using his arm for support.

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

He doesn't wait for her to respond, instead pulling her into his arms and kissing her again. He unclips her bra; she pushes his shirt over his shoulders and he tugs it the rest of the way off before grabbing her ass and hauling her against him once more. The feeling of her bare skin against his is better than he ever dreamed.

It's only seconds later that she's drawing back, trying not to moan as he sucks on her neck. "Come on Fitzy," she says breathlessly, "Get me to the fucking bedroom already."

She just has time to toss her bra to the floor before he's lifting her again, one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her knees. She squeals, gripping onto him.

"Which way?"

She points to their left and he carries her through, using the light from behind them to finally lower her onto the enormous bed. He switches on the bedside lamp and then kneels in front of her on the mattress, still wearing his pants and shoes. Olivia is gazing up at him, almost completely bare and spectacularly gorgeous. Her hands come to rest on his hips and his whole body quakes.

"Hi," she murmurs, a small smile curving her lips which makes his heart hurt.

 _"Hi."_

His voice is rough, full of an emotion he can't name. All he knows is that this woman in front of him is more than everything he's ever desired, and he can't believe she's his.

They reach for one another at the same time, their kiss full of heat, of _fire_. Fitz lowers her onto her back, covering her body with his. He wastes no time now in moving his mouth to her breasts, licking her nipples as she writhes around, unintelligible sounds falling nonstop from her lips. Her every muscle is taught as he winds her up like a spring, pushing her closer to the edge of oblivion. His fingers delve into her panties, sliding against her, feeling how slick and hot she is. The knowledge that this is all for him makes him lightheaded with longing.

"Fitz, I'm going to come," she gasps as he's pulling her left nipple between his teeth.

"Wait. Not yet." His mouth moves against her rib cage, her abdomen; he can't be parted from her. "I want to taste you."

He pushes her further onto the mattress until his face is between her thighs. Her panties fly over his shoulder and then she's totally exposed before him, every inch of her skin flushed with pleasure, glistening; just waiting for him to consume. He can't help but let out a groan when his mouth finally connects with her so intimately. He sucks on her clit, circling it just twice, three times with his tongue before her back arches off the bed and she shudders as she begins to cry out.

"Ahh, Fitz! Oh my _god_ … I'm… coming…! _Fuck_ …"

There have been many times throughout the evening when Fitz thought he'd reached the peak of his arousal, but he's just surpassed it yet again. He licks down and thrusts his tongue inside her, tasting her, _savoring_ _her_ as her orgasm makes her whole body vibrate. Her thighs are gripping his head; just as they begin to relax, he returns to her clit and she tenses all over again, swearing and panting and whimpering his name as he draws every last drop of ecstasy from her.

He could gladly stay there between her legs, exploring her, making her come over and over but she reaches for him, pulling impatiently on his shoulders. Her eyes are hooded, wanton, hazy with lust. Fitz quickly moves up her body and she kisses him as soon as he's within reach, tasting his mouth. Mellie always used to make him brush his teeth before she'd let him kiss her, and the fact that Olivia welcomes her own taste is _so_ erotic.

"I need you inside me," she breathes against his lips, reaching for the waistband of his pants. "You're so hot… That was so hot… _so good_."

Her small hands opening his fly, slipping into his boxers is too much for him to handle. He stands, tugging off his shoes, discarding the rest of his clothes in a matter of seconds. He grabs the condoms from the pocket of his pants and throws them onto the mattress as he crawls over her again, covering her mouth with his own once more. Being completely skin to skin for the first time is just as arousing as he knew it would be, so much so that he's barely able to breathe, lost in too many sensations, blood rushing in his ears.

When Olivia takes him in her palm and strokes him, that's the final straw. With a growl and several profanities he kneels up, ripping open the first condom packet and rolling one on. He senses her gaze on him; can feel its heat as she devours him with her eyes.

"If I don't last long," he says hoarsely as he positions himself between her thighs, "I _will_ make it up to you, I promise."

"It's okay." She smiles as she lifts her legs around his hips, urging him closer. "I don't doubt that you will."

She kisses him, her body rising towards him, and as he finally enters her they both cry out helplessly. Even with the condom she feels like heaven, so tight, so wet. Their eyes meet briefly and she's the most open she's ever been; the most vulnerable.

"Beautiful," he tells her again, brushing her hair away from her face.

Her hips tilt, impatient, and Fitz's thrust back reflexively. He feels her relax fully, taking more of him in, and her eyes fall closed as she lets out the most delectable moan. That's it: the beginning of the end. He kisses her as he begins to pound into her, matching every swirl of her tongue, swallowing every divine noise she makes. His orgasm is dangerously close already and he's not embarrassed: she knows full well how much he's wanted her from the moment she sat beside him at dinner.

"Holy fuck," he murmurs against her lips when her nails dig into his back. "Sweet, sweet baby…"

He's barely aware of what he's saying; there's nothing in his mind except her, and how blissful she feels. He trails his mouth briefly down her neck, her chest; sucks on her nipple and makes her convulse. Her body is tense again, he can tell.

"Can you… come like this?"

She's meeting his thrusts, her legs gripping him so tightly that her pelvis is angled just right: he's hitting her G spot with every movement "Not always," she pants, "but I'm so… so close right now."

Fitz knows he only has seconds left before he explodes. He tugs on her arm, maneuvering her hand to his mouth so he can suck on two of her fingers. Then he drags it between their bodies, instructing her without words to touch herself. His mouth returns to her nipples, pulling each one between his teeth in turn, and as she moans his name he begins to let go. He just can't hold on any longer: he's so deep inside her and she's so fucking incredible, especially as she starts to come again.

 _"Oh my god!"_

He loses himself, capturing her mouth, her sounds; burying his own sounds between her lips. His orgasm is phenomenal, the strongest and the most satisfying he can _ever_ remember, and it seems to last forever. All he can hear is his heartbeat and Olivia's ragged breathing as he holds her trembling body as close as possible, until the world becomes quiet once more and every muscle in their bodies finally relaxes.

"Wow," she breathes, and he lifts his head from her shoulder to gaze at her lovely face. Her smile is so wide, so content. Fitz thinks he's never been happy before, until this very moment.

"Wow," he echoes, pressing his curved lips to hers.

He rolls off of her onto his back, pulling out. She cuddles up to him, her fingertips tracing patterns on his ribs. They're still out of breath, chests rising and falling together.

"That was amazing," she murmurs. "I've never come so hard in my life."

"Me neither."

He feels her lips pressing sweet little kisses to his skin as her fingers roam down to his abs. "You're so hot, Fitz. Your body is incredible."

Her compliments warm him, deep inside. "Not bad for forty, huh?"

Olivia sits up slowly, crossing her legs. She's completely unashamed to be so exposed and it's incredibly sexy. He has trouble tearing his gaze away from the haven at the apex of her thighs. "You're forty?"

"Yep."

"Wow. You don't look it."

"Thank you." He runs his hand up and down her thigh, finally able to appreciate just how soft her skin is. "How old are you?"

"Twenty six. Almost twenty seven."

"That's quite an age gap." He already knows this, of course, but he's interested to hear her thoughts.

She merely shrugs, her eyes sparkling. "So?"

Right answer.

"So nothing." Fitz smiles at her before leaning forward to place a kiss on her knee. Then he sits up and climbs off the bed, headed for the bathroom.

"To your right," Olivia instructs.

"Thanks boss."

He cleans himself up, still overwhelmed by everything that's happened today. Just this morning he was wondering if he'd done the right thing leaving his wife, walking away from his marriage. He made a commitment and he wanted to be honorable, to keep his promises to her. But now, barely twelve hours later, he's just had sex with another woman. Amazing, mind-blowing, _earth-shattering_ sex with the most beautiful woman he's ever met, but still… He's cheated. He is a cheater.

And he can't bring himself to feel anything other than recklessly, joyfully happy. It's a feeling he'd almost forgotten, and it is _so_ sweet as it sings through his veins. Olivia Pope is the love of his life, he's already sure of that… and being with her is just not something he can be sorry about.

When he returns to the bedroom a few minutes later she's reclining back against the pillows, still gloriously naked. "What were you doing at my age?" she asks as he lies beside her, turning onto her side to face him.

"Um… I was still doing my PhD at Columbia. My penultimate year." He runs his finger down her arm, over her rib cage, the curves of her waist and hip; mesmerized by the shivers created in his wake. "What do you want to be doing when you're forty?"

She takes his hand and links their fingers together. "I want… to have seen change happen. I want my projects to be successful."

Wow. What an answer.

"What do you want to do in the next fourteen years?" she asks, shuffling closer; magnetized towards him.

Fitz thinks for a moment. That morning he would have had a completely different answer. But now, since she's come into his life, his entire perspective has changed. Now, he's finally ready to be honest with himself.

"I want to run for President," he admits, his voice quiet but steady. It's the first time he's ever said that out loud; the first time he's acknowledged that his father's plan for him has actually become something he wants for himself, too.

Olivia is frowning. "President of… your company? I thought you already owned it?"

"No. President of the United States."

Her expression clears, and she holds his gaze for the longest moment before she says softly: "I think you'd make a _great_ President, Fitz."

A lump forms in his throat: her total faith in him is too much to take in right now. "I've never told anyone that before," he murmurs, and for some reason she giggles.

"Well then, it's our naughty little secret, isn't it?"

She moves even closer, pressing herself against him. His body reacts instantly.

"Am I staying in your suite, Mr President?" she asks coyly, nuzzling her nose against his.

"Oh, I like that." He wants her again - _badly_. Her eyes have darkened considerably, and he suspects his have too by the way her breath catches.

"Say it again," he whispers, his words caressing her lips. He doesn't kiss her - not yet. She's going to have to wait for that, this time.

 _"Mr President…"_

He rolls her onto her back and then slowly and deliberately begins his exploration of her flawless form: licking, biting, tasting. He _will_ devour every inch of her… starting right now.


	4. Will I Ever Get Enough Of You?

**A/N** : I am so sorry this has taken so long. In the last 2 months I've emigrated from the UK to Australia, which has been unbelievably hectic, but everything is settling down now.

I originally wanted this to be part of a longer chapter, but I also want to get something posted for you guys to say THANK YOU for your incredible feedback - I've been so overwhelmed by it all. I love this story and I have big plans for it, so please stick with me.

Hope you enjoy this part!

* * *

Fitz feels like he's only been asleep for ten minutes when the sound of an alarm begins to penetrate his consciousness, but it must have been longer than that because he's been having the most incredible dreams. Dreams of brown skin smoother than silk; of the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen; of the feeling of utter contentment, like he's found his soul mate and his best friend and the missing part of his world.

The bed shifts as the warm body in his arms begins to stir, and now he's awake enough to _know_ \- he wasn't dreaming. He _did_ meet Olivia Pope last night; he did fall in love with the way she laughed and the tips of her fingers and the soft moans she made long into the morning. He did lie between her legs until her taste became engrained on his tongue and she was a trembling, incoherent mess of multiple-orgasmic bliss; he did make love to her on the floor, against the wall, back on the bed after she went down on him and he could have sworn the Earth rolled right off its axis.

They did flirt and play and giggle until they had tears in their eyes. She did kiss him until he never wanted to kiss anyone else, ever again. They did finally fall asleep intertwined, exhausted; naked, hot and messy in the best way.

And now this unbelievable woman is wriggling in his embrace, reaching out towards her phone which is rousing them at some ungodly hour. Fitz's eyes open slowly and he waits for them to adjust to the light; when they don't, because it's still dark outside, he groans and pulls Olivia firmly back into his arms.

"Five more minutes," she says in a voice full of sleep, and he's so tired but she's so lovely that he presses his lips to her shoulder, his right hand rising up to cup her bare breast…

The alarm wakes him again what feels like two seconds later, and this time he lets his frustration be known with a noise of displeasure from deep in his throat. "Turn that thing off," he grumbles, shifting them so that the contours of her body fit perfectly with his once more - her bottom in the cradle of his pelvis, their knees locked in together. He nuzzles his face in her hair, its scent already familiar, soothing.

"I have to get up," she whispers, and they're so close that he feels the yawn spread through her body before he hears it fall from her lips. When she stretches, every muscle from head to toe, her back arches and her gorgeous ass moves tantalizingly against his crotch. Suddenly, despite the hour and the darkness and the haze of fatigue, Fitz's morning semi is well on its way up.

Olivia tries to turn over but he holds her in place; his exquisitely sexy little spoon. "Fitz, I need to get ready," she protests, but it's even less than half-hearted. He lets his hand wander over her skin, re-familiarizing himself with the softness of her thighs, the firm planes of her abdomen, the pebbled skin of her areolas. He presses his lips to her neck at the same time his thumb brushes over her right nipple, and she lets out the most arousing moan as she just _dissolves_ into him.

"Oh Livvie," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over her skin, making her shiver. He may be exhausted, but his desire for her far outweighs anything else. "If you think I'm letting you leave this bed, you're very much mistaken."

His voice is low and husky; commanding. It makes her gasp and arch into him again, pushing her breast into his eager hand. He's fully hard now, aching for her even though it's only been a couple of hours since he'd fallen asleep more sated than he ever thought possible. Will he ever get enough of her? Will he ever be truly satisfied again, when there will always be more of her to explore, to learn, to fall in love with?

He spreads his hand, using his thumb and little finger to play with both her nipples at once, making her moan and grind into him even more helplessly. He learned last night how sensitive her breasts are - a direct connection to every other erogenous zone she possesses. He's learned a lot about her in a very short space of time: that the backs of her knees are ticklish; that biting her inner thighs _really_ turns her on; that she goes crazy from his tongue alone, but she falls apart completely when he toys with her nipples as well. He's learned that simply kissing her is more than enough foreplay to leave her soaking wet; that she can orgasm from penetration alone, when the angle is just right, but she comes ten times harder when he's lavishing attention on her mouth, her nipples, her clit; that she's at her most beautiful (and that's saying something) when she's curled up in his arms afterwards, vulnerable and glowing and just… totally and utterly _perfect_.

And he's learned things about himself too, things he'd long-since forgotten: that lust is the most powerful, all-consuming emotion; that tasting a woman is one of his very favorite things to do, and more than enough to drive him over the edge if he's not careful; that he's missed sex, but much more than that he's missed _intimacy_. He's missed pillow talk and watching each other dress in the morning with fascination and hungry eyes; constant touching and kissing for the sake of it and being completely bare in every imaginable way.

It's ridiculous, really, how comfortable he and Olivia are together just hours after meeting. It's the exact opposite of his early relationship with Mellie, with whom he endured months of formal dates - making small talk in expensive restaurants followed by a chaste kiss on the cheek - before they came anywhere near to being intimate. With Olivia, though, everything is in fast forward: they sped through the 'getting to know you' phase, using their eyes to say it all; they've been kissing like old lovers since the very first time their lips met. She's opened herself to him; allowed him to take control of her body and pleasure it in whatever ways he sees fit.

She _trusts_ him, already, and that might have been daunting if not for the fact that pleasing her is as instinctive as breathing. He's doesn't have to think about what he's doing when his tongue is carefully mapping the magical land between her thighs; when he's thrusting his fingers, his cock, inside of her, easily finding her most sensitive spots. He doesn't have to try and make her moan - she just does, and with everything she has.

He can't help but wonder if this is normal; if this is how it should have been with his wife, back at the beginning. But even as he thinks this, he knows the answer: no, this is not normal. This is _extraordinary_. This is fate, and he's never believed in that before - not in his line of work - but he believes in this; in _them_. He believes in happiness again.

And somewhere, right at the back of his mind, in the corners of his heart, he remembers love - and he believes in that again, too.

"Oh my _god_ ," Olivia breathes now, and she sounds so desperately close already than Fitz slides his hand down her trembling body, keen to find out if she's as ready as she seems. She parts her legs in anticipation, lifting her right knee back over his, granting him full access to her dripping wet core.

"Fuck, Liv," he groans as his fingers glide easily between her slick folds, his own arousal heightened exponentially by the evidence of hers. He bites on her ear; whispers hotly against it: "You're so wet, baby. So fucking wet..."

He dips his middle finger inside of her and then trails it back up to circle her clit, making her cry out. " _Ahh_... God, I want you," she whimpers. "I need you to fuck me. Please."

He didn't need to hear her say it to know just how turned on she is right now - it's in every jagged movement of her body; every gasping, breathy moan - but with her words, suddenly the need to fill her, to be enveloped in her heat, is too much. In their state of heavy, half-sleepy arousal he positions himself and slides easily into her, making them both shudder.

" _Uhh…_ Fitz!"

His only response is an animalistic grunt as he begins to move inside of her, feeling her adjust to his size in the most erotic way. He buries his face in her neck once again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her sensitized skin which makes her even wetter. Her arousal coats his fingertips as he draws circles on her clit, hard enough to feel her pubic bone beneath. He knows this pressure drives her wild; drives her G spot onto his cock with every thrust of his hips.

"I'm… so close… _fuck_ …" Olivia gasps, and he already knows that but it's so good to hear in her raw, sexy voice. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in his hair; tugs on his ear because she's learned things about him, too - things that make him fucking _crazy_. He feels her left hand find his, which has been stretched out beneath her all night, and she interlocks their fingers together in the sweetest way. Fitz grips onto her for dear life as he tries to concentrate on holding back his impending orgasm.

"Touch your nipples," he instructs, his voice gravelly, desperate. She feels so incredible, so responsive, so _heavenly_. It might have only been hours since he last had her but he's not sure now how he waited so long; he's not sure how he's ever going to wait so long for her again.

Her right hand leaves his hair and he can tell the instant she caresses herself because her entire body tenses up and she whimpers several words: broken sentences, profanities; a long _"Fff…"_ which might have been his name, or _fuck_ , or both.

"Come for me Livvie," he murmurs, pulling her earlobe between his teeth. "Come hard for me. You are so fucking hot… I want you to come _so hard_ …"

And she does, exploding around him with the most exquisite cries, tensing and shaking from head to toe. Fitz holds her close as he takes her through her orgasm and into his, driving into her relentlessly until he can't take it one second longer: he comes fiercely, _loudly_. There aren't words to describe how sensational it feels to reach their peak together; to fall off the other side in the most blissful, ecstatic synchrony. And, like everything else, it's just so easy with Olivia. Their bodies communicate on some deeper level, well beyond their control. He was correct last night to think he would always regret walking away from her: he would never have learned that sex could be _so_ good; that it could transcend the physical, the emotional, and touch his very soul.

He has no idea how long he's been out of it, floating along on waves of the purest pleasure, when Olivia eventually speaks. "Good _morning_ ," she says, and there's amusement in her voice which he just falls in love with. He's woken up with exactly the same Livvie as the one he fell for last night: there's no awkwardness, no evidence of regret. There's just her, funny and charming and amazing as ever, and it makes him so deliriously happy.

"Mmm," he replies, his eyes still tightly shut as he tries to savor this feeling. "I've had worse, I suppose."

She laughs and he feels it in her body, still wrapped tightly around his cock. "Such a charmer. Are you this nice to all the ladies?"

He presses a tender kiss to her shoulder. "There are no other ladies. There's only you, and your mouth is far too filthy to ever be called a lady."

"Ouch."

Fitz squeezes her even closer, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist. "I didn't say that's a bad thing. I love your filthy mouth. It's almost the best thing about you."

"Oh really?" She tries to turn in his embrace and he lets her roll onto her back, pulling out of her in the process. He instantly misses their connection. "What's the best thing about me?" she asks cutely, and by now Fitz's eyes have adjusted to the dim light enough to make out her face. She is a thousand times more beautiful than he remembers, and he's momentarily so mesmerized by her that it takes him several seconds to respond.

"That... is for me to know, and you to find out."

"You're mean." She scrunches her nose and he can't help but kiss it.

"I know. You're gorgeous."

"I know."

They share a silly grin. Her gaze falls naturally to his lips and he meets her halfway for a kiss. "I really have to get up now," she sighs, running her fingertips down his cheek. He can tell she's as loathe to leave him as he is to let her go.

"What time is it?" he asks, and suddenly he's fighting back a yawn.

"Not sure. Probably about half six?"

"Jesus." Fitz flops back onto the pillow and closes his eyes. "Why are you up so early?"

"I need to shower, wash my hair, get ready and be at the conference by eight to help set up."

"Ugh. Well, I'm going back to sleep. A man cannot live on three hours' alone."

"A woman can," Olivia says smugly, and he's aware of her moving to sit up beside him. He manages to stay awake long enough to watch her stretch her exquisite body, and the sight of her bare breasts actually makes his mouth water. She notices him staring and he quickly tries to pretend he wasn't looking, feigning sleep. "See something you like?" she asks and he can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Huh? No, I'm sleeping," he mumbles, but he can't stop the smile from spreading over his lips. She begins to giggle and he has to look again because it's such a magical sight.

"Right, I am _definitely_ getting up now," she sighs a moment later, finally moving towards the edge of the bed. Fitz wishes with everything he has that she didn't have to go; that they could spend the whole of their Sunday cocooned here in her suite, gladly ignoring the rest of the world.

"Go on then," he says instead, reveling in their flirtatious banter. "Let me get some peace at last."

"Hey! I'm pretty sure _you_ seduced _me_."

He can hear that her voice is disappearing towards the bathroom. "I'm pretty sure you rubbed your ass against me on purpose," he calls out in reply.

"Well, I didn't… But now I know that's all it takes, I'll be sure to do it more often."

Her words are music to his ears - and to other parts of his body, too. "I hope so," he says huskily, and when he looks for her she's standing in the bathroom doorway, her incredible figure illuminated by the light from inside, making her glow. Her gaze is smoldering, and he knows his is as well.

"I promise," she says with the sexiest smile he's ever seen. "Now go back to sleep, old man. I'll wake you for breakfast."

Fitz finds himself laughing as he turns over and buries down into the warmth of the covers. God, this woman… If he isn't already in love with her, it's not going to be long at all before he's head over heels.

* * *

She wakes him a little while later by gently running her fingers through his hair, and Fitz has never risen from sleep so peacefully before. "Hi," she says, smiling down at him.

His eyes adjust to the sunlight now sneaking in around the edges of the curtains and he's immediately blown away by her: she looks absolutely stunning in a white silk blouse and black pencil skirt, her long hair straight, her make-up highlighting her flawless features. She smells incredible too, like vanilla and expensive salons and something inherently Olivia Pope. It's a heady mix, one which makes him want to kiss her and never stop.

"Hi," he breathes, his hand coming to settle on her thigh. "You look _beautiful_."

Her smile grows. "Thank you."

"What time is it?" He sits up, propping himself on his elbows, and notices her gaze wandering down his bare chest.

"Seven forty five. My cab's waiting downstairs. I tried to wake you earlier for breakfast but you were in some kind of coma, so I've left some in the dining room for you."

He chuckles at her choice of words. "Thanks."

There's a pause, and he can tell she is trying to figure out how to phrase her next sentences. "Fitz, I had so much fun last night. It was amazing... _You_ are amazing."

"So are you," he says softly, hoping his voice doesn't crack with all the emotion suddenly welling up inside him. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Time stands still. Despite everything they've done together, this is the most intimate moment they've shared and it makes Fitz's heart soar. Just being here, gazing into her eyes as her fingertips trail slowly through his hair, is what he's been missing his whole life: effortless closeness with another human soul; perfect calmness, in the very depths of his being. He revels in it; lets it consume him. He wants to store this feeling, to relive it every day for the rest of his life - how it feels to finally be _complete_.

Minutes seem to pass until eventually, Olivia's smile widens self-consciously and she leans down to press a brief kiss to his lips. "This is _crazy_ ," she mutters, and he can't help but laugh at the incredulous tone of her voice.

"Did you expect anything like this to happen when you were getting ready for dinner yesterday evening?"

She shrugs slightly, her brown eyes sparkling now. "Well, I _was_ hoping to get lucky, but I had no idea it'd be with someone so…"

She trails off, pretending to search for the right word. Fitz feels such joy at the way she flirts; the way they joke and tease, even after sharing such a profound moment.

"Unbelievably handsome?" he suggests. "Devastatingly sexy? Phenomenal in bed?"

"Up his own _ass_ ," she finishes pointedly, her eyebrows raised, and he bursts out laughing.

"Touché, sweet Livvie. Touché."

He sits up fully and presses his lips to hers; she feigns indifference at first, which charms him, but it doesn't take him long at all to convince her to kiss him back.

"You should get up," she murmurs, eventually drawing away. There's a dazed look in her eyes which he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing. "You're gonna be late."

Fitz lies back down instead, pulling the covers over himself again. "I'm going to skip the beginning. I've already seen the first talk at the UNICEF conference back in June, and the second one sounds boring."

Olivia looks shocked, and he realizes she's probably never skipped out on anything before in her whole life. "Don't look at me like that," he teases. "It's not like there's an attendance register. In fact, there's plenty of room in this bed for two, if you want to stay…"

For a second he thinks she's actually considering his offer. "You know I can't," she says, but she sounds like she wants to and he'll take that. "I'm setting up and then I'm on the Q&A panel at eleven."

"And after that?"

"Fitz…"

"Are you involved in anything else?"

"No, but- "

"Meet me for lunch," he says firmly. He reaches for her hand and kisses her fingers. "Take the rest of the day off. Let's be naughty and skip it together."

She looks so tempted, and he almost feels bad for trying to corrupt her, but he selfishly just wants to spend as much time with her as possible. She's completely intoxicating: he's already addicted.

"I will meet you for lunch," she finally agrees. "And I'll think about the rest. Okay?"

"Okay."

They smile at one another, ridiculously happy, until their moment is interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She glances at the display. "That's the taxi company calling. Now I really have to go," she says, squeezing his hand before standing up. "Help yourself to whatever."

"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."

She picks up her coat and purse and is almost at the bedroom door when he calls after her: "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this going to be our first date?"

She rolls her eyes adorably. "I'll think about that too," she smirks, turning to leave.

He waits a couple of seconds before calling her name again. "Livvie?"

"What?" When she reappears, she looks exasperated and it makes him smile. He's sure Olivia Pope is never normally late for anything, but she's just so sexy when she's flustered.

"Can I have your phone number?"

* * *

 **TBC**


	5. Why Didn't I Meet You Sooner?

**A/N: Once again, I _love_ you guys. Thank you for your awesome reviews and PMs! I wish I could reply to your comments and questions individually. (Maybe we can chat on Twitter? I'm ebonybeach.) Thanks also for the well wishes about my new life in Oz (we moved here for work, for those who were curious - and it's amazing). **

**I'm working a LOT in the next few weeks and have a friend flying over too, so won't be able to update for a little while - apologies. But enjoy this in the meantime and h** **appy TGIT - I hope tonight's episode is as good as 501!**

* * *

 **Why Didn't I Meet You Sooner?**

Fitz wakes for the third time that morning when his own alarm tells him it's nine thirty. He pulls on his boxers, uses the bathroom and then wanders through the suite in search of breakfast, which he finds on the enormous dining room table. There's fruit, cereal and yogurt but unsurprisingly the toast and coffee has long since gone cold. He makes his way over to the nearest phone and dials room service, requesting fresh supplies. It's only when he's hung up that he notices a phone number handwritten on the top sheet of the notepad.

 _I guess you've earned this_ , it says underneath, with a winking smiley face.

He texts her immediately. _You guess?_

He doesn't put his name - she'll know who he is. Sure enough, her reply comes through quickly: _Ah, you're alive. I was about to send out a search party._

 _ **F:**_ _Will you be in the party? If so, ignore these messages. I'm definitely not fine, come find me please._

 _ **O:**_ _Ha, nice try. Have you gone back to your own room yet?_

 _ **F:**_ _No, I like yours better. I think I might stay here instead. You can have my shoe box on the second floor._

 _ **O:**_ _Wow, thanks._

 _ **F:**_ _No problem. How's the conference so far?_

 _ **O:**_ _Quite a few empty seats - you're not the only needing a lie in after last night. But it's good._

 _ **F:**_ _So good you're texting me?_

 _ **O:**_ _It's called multitasking. You should try it some time._

He can't help but smirk to himself as he types his reply: _I did, last night. And this morning. You seemed to think I was pretty great at it…_

 _ **O:**_ _You are shameless! I'm putting my phone away now._

 _ **F:**_ _Wait!_

 _ **F:**_ _Don't you want to know what I'm wearing?_

 _ **O:**_ _No! I'm busy. I'm not thinking about you._

 _ **F:**_ _You are. You're thinking about all the things I'm gonna to you this afternoon, after our date…_

 _ **O:**_ _I don't put out on first dates._

Fitz finds himself laughing out loud. _It's a little late to take the high road don't you think, Livvie?_

 _ **O:**_ _Last night was… uncharacteristic. If you really want me, you're gonna have to earn me. ;)_

 _ **F:**_ _Oh, I am so up for the challenge._

 _ **O:**_ _I look forward to it… x_

Fitz wonders if his heart might beat out of his chest. She makes him feel giddy, reckless; eighteen again and full of hope, of possibility. She makes him forget that he's forty with a failed marriage, an overbearing father and so many dreams still to achieve (a family of his own; a run for Governor; success in all his projects).

He knows exactly where to take her for lunch, and a quick phone call reveals a last minute cancellation which he snaps up before the poor restaurant manager has even finished his sentence. Then, full of coffee and toast smothered with the most delicious blackberry jam - his favorite breakfast; he's always had a sweet tooth - Fitz reluctantly dresses and makes his way back to his own room to shower. He hopes it won't be the last time he sees this suite and silently vows that, if he ever does become President of the United States, he will bring his First Lady back here to relive all the magic of the night they met.

* * *

He'd been planning on arriving at the conference for eleven o'clock but, after taking a rejuvenating shower and dressing in a black suit and crisp white shirt, he's both bored and missing her. The cab ride across the city only takes fifteen minutes, and he's there by twenty to.

The lobby is busy, full of people chatting and drinking coffee in the break between presentations. He spots Olivia across the room just as she's turning towards him, as if she could feel his presence as soon as he entered. The instant their gazes meet, everything else disappears. She is more beautiful every time he sees her, especially when she gets that look on her face: pupils dilated, eyelids suddenly heavy; lips parted just slightly as she sharply inhales. It's the look of lust, of ' _Kiss me, Fitz,'_ and he wants to - no, he _needs_ to. Desperately.

They're walking towards one another without realizing it, weaving through the crowd, but before he's even close enough to touch her she turns to her left, gesturing for him to follow. He catches the scent of her perfume again and it raises goosebumps on his skin. He wants to wrap her up in his arms, to run his palms down her body, to nibble on her neck and hear her moan his name. She's just irresistible.

And he's going _insane_.

He lingers, watching Olivia ask at the front desk if there's a private room where she can make a phone call. His eyes are drawn to her legs, bare from the knee down, ending in five inch heels which give her calves the most elegant shape. Is there any part of her which isn't perfect? He won't even entertain the idea that there is.

He can't bring himself to care that the staff have probably seen him following her into the small meeting room just off the lobby because the second they're alone, he's hard. They don't speak as he pushes her up against the door, holding her burning hot gaze for just a moment before leaning down and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She moans as their tongues meet, her sweet mouth so wet and warm. It reminds him of last night, of the rooftop and the taste of smoke and lying between her thighs, discovering her most intimately of all. Will he ever be able to kiss her and not think of all the other parts of her he wants to kiss as well?

Her hands rise to his hair as his slide beneath her skirt, his desire growing rapidly with every passing second. The way her body moves against him - rhythmically, like the most erotic dance - is almost too much. He grips her backside, pulling her even closer, helplessly trying to create more friction between her taut little abdomen and his straining erection. How is she doing this to him? What has she done to his libido, which no other woman has achieved so successfully since… well, ever?

"Fitz, we can't... _Fitz!_ "

It takes a while for her voice, her warnings, to register, and even then he's too far gone to pay any attention.

"Livvie, we _can_." He moves his mouth to her neck, grazing his teeth along her skin, feeling her response in every muscle of her body. His left hand slides around her hip and beneath her underwear, and she's so unbelievably wet that he pushes two fingers inside of her with no preamble. The way she convulses almost makes him come apart.

" _Fuck!"_

It's nearly a scream and Fitz feels suddenly reckless again, like he wants the whole world to hear how absolutely crazy he is making this incredible woman.

"You're so fucking hot, baby. So ready," he murmurs as he continues to thrust his fingers into her heat, drenching his hand. He lifts her left leg over his right forearm, opening her up to him. "Did you miss me too? Did you miss the way I fuck your pussy?"

"Yes!" she hisses, her eyes closed, her exquisite features tense. He can't stop staring at her. He wants to see it up close: the moment she explodes.

"Are you going to come for me?"

" _Yes!"_

He trails his fingers to her clit, drawing firm circles there; intermittently returning to fuck her again. The combination pushes her right to the edge and then suddenly she's coming on his hand, crying out until she's totally spent and her sounds become whimpers. Fitz knows he'll never get tired of this as long as he lives. In the space of twelve hours, pleasuring Olivia Pope has overtaken everything else as his number one goal in life.

He gently slips his fingers out of her and lowers her foot to the floor, keeping her steady with the weight of his body pressing her into the door. He can't help but feather kisses across her face, eventually focusing in on her lips. She's barely responsive and it makes him smile with immense satisfaction.

When she finally speaks, it's to ask what the time is.

Fitz chuckles as he digs out his phone from his jacket pocket. "It is… ten fifty two. Why? Do you have somewhere better to be?"

Her head falls back, her dark eyes opening just slightly to gaze up at him. She looks thoroughly sated and it's a beautiful sight. "Very funny, mister. Fuck, how am I supposed to go back out there? I get so carried away with you…"

She sounds annoyed, with herself more than with him. The last thing he wants to do is upset her, but she's right - they just get lost in each other. Rational thought goes flying out the window whenever she's in his proximity.

"Should I be apologizing?" he asks sincerely.

"Yes." But a smile is beginning to curve her lips. "No… I don't know!"

He shares her smile. "Okay. I'm sorry, and I'm not sorry."

She reaches for him, kissing his mouth. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't. But I have to go freshen up." She gently pushes him away and he lets her, watching as she smooths down her blouse and skirt. "I can't believe I have to go on stage in front of hundreds of people when I'm barely five minutes post-orgasm."

"So unprofessional Livvie," he teases, and the dark look she gives him makes him smirk. That is, until she reaches out and rubs her palm over the bulge in his pants. His eyes fall shut and he can't stop the groan that leaves his throat.

"What are you doing?"

Her words are whispers next to his ear as her hand continues its sweet torture. "Just making sure I'm not the only one who's going to be uncomfortable for the next two hours."

And now he hates her too, in that same way which isn't hate at all but something more like… love.

* * *

Olivia is so incredible on the Question and Answer panel that Fitz actually manages to survive the entire session without once thinking about her naked. From the very first moment she speaks (about ten minutes in - he likes to think she needed the extra recovery time), he is enthralled by her. She completely owns it, answering each question with more eloquence than her colleagues, debating points with such thoughtfulness for someone so young. Was it only yesterday morning that he was first blown away by her brilliant mind, her passionate soul? It feels like a lifetime has passed between then and now. He feels like a different man - a _better_ man, all for knowing her.

When they meet afterwards, as the crowd files through to the dining room for lunch, he just wants to give her a hug and tell her how proud he is of her. But they're in public and he doesn't want to be patronizing - she knows how good she is; he can see it in her eyes, in her confident posture. That was the first thing which attracted him to her and it's even more arousing now, after everything they've already shared. He thinks his eyes are probably showing her his feelings anyway, because her smile grows and there's a hint of blush on her cheeks which wasn't there before.

It's sunny outside, the Sunday sky a gorgeous shade of light blue. The taxi Fitz ordered just before the end of the panel is already waiting for them. When she asks where they're going he just tells her to be patient, but he finds his own instruction hard to follow when she slides her soft hand into his and links their fingers together like they've been doing this for years, not hours.

It only takes ten minutes to reach their destination, and the look of wonder on her face when she realizes where they are is breathtaking. "Are we going up there?" she asks when they've exited the cab, looking skywards, trying to make out the very top of The Shard.

"Yes."

"Oh my god. This is awesome."

Fitz takes her hand again and tries not to appear as smug as he feels.

They ride the elevator to the restaurant on the thirty first floor - not even halfway up, but the views are still astounding. He buys two flutes of Champagne and they stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, his arm around her waist, his hand on her hip like it belongs there. Her warmth, her closeness, is turning him on in that slow burn way.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks at length, after he's pointed out all the landmarks (the sun shining on St Paul's is particularly stunning) and she's gone quiet, taking it all in.

She turns to him; reaches up to stroke her fingertips down his cheek. "How special this is. How lucky I am, to have met you."

Fitz smiles and leans down to kiss her, not caring that they're out in the open and someone might recognize her. He thinks they look like any other couple enjoying the view: happily and hopelessly smitten. "I'm the lucky one," he says softly, his voice deep and honest. He gazes at her for several seconds before speaking again, revealing the biggest regret of his life - one he didn't know he had, until yesterday.

"Why didn't I meet you sooner? Why did I marry her, and not wait for you to show up?"

Olivia's smile doesn't falter - she just takes his confession in her stride. "How long have you been married for?"

"Ten years. But we dated for two before that." He's captivated by her: even close up her skin is flawless; her eyelashes so long and beautifully curled. As he watches, her smile broadens into a grin, revealing her perfect teeth.

"Well, Fitzgerald, that would have been illegal - I was _fourteen_ twelve years ago."

He can't help but laugh: a proper laugh, not the forced ones he's been giving his wife for too many years. "Okay, smart ass. You know what I meant." He lets his hand slip down onto her backside, gently squeezing her against him as his tone becomes more playful. "Anyway, I would have waited for you. Maybe even until you were legal."

Her eyes widen. _"Maybe?"_

"I find it very hard to be patient around you," he admits, and he's serious again because it's true. He wants to do everything with her, _right now_. He wants to date her, to take her to bed; to make her giggle, to listen to her talk for hours about her hopes and fears. He wants to be part of her life; to welcome her into his so she can fill up all the spaces that have been empty for far too long.

"Do you think we're going too fast?" she wonders aloud, and his response is immediate.

"No. I think we can go as fast or as slow as we want to. There are no rules, Liv."

"Well, you only left your wife a month ago and I haven't dated anyone since Edison, so-"

"That's his name? The guy who broke your heart?" She nods. "I hate him already."

Olivia laughs, but there's sadness is her eyes. "Don't. He's not worth it."

Fitz feels a fierce desire to protect her, to make all her hurt go away forever. "Will you tell me about it one day?"

"Yes."

There's a natural pause, but he can see she's still unsettled as her gaze drifts back to the window. He tilts her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him again. "Do _you_ think we're going too fast?"

And he sees it then: how she falls in love. It's in the way her face softens; how her eyes light up like stars. "You always reflect my questions back to me… Why?"

"Because I want to know what you're thinking. If you're happy, I'm happy. If you're not, I want to know what I can do to fix it."

And now there are tears sparkling in her eyes and he's taken aback. He frowns; holds her closer. "What's wrong?"

She blinks a few times, looking at him like she's never seen him before. "Fitz, are you real? We barely know each other and you've already treated me better than he did in two whole years. I thought you were a good guy as soon as we met, but you're just… you're _kind_. You're sweet. When you look at me, I feel like you're actually _looking_ at me and not thinking about something else."

"Of course I am. How could I be thinking about anything else?" And it dawns on Fitz, then, just how much this guy Edison has fucked her up. "What did he do to you, Liv?"

Does he look as horrified as he sounds? Because he thinks his heart might be breaking for her.

"I can't… I can't talk about it here."

"Whatever kind of man he was, I want you to know we're not all like that." He's speaking forcefully; willing her to believe him. "There are still good people out there. I like to think I'm one of them, although on paper I _am_ an adulterer, so… perhaps not."

That makes her smile. He'd do anything to make her smile.

"You're an honest adulterer, at least," she says, clearly making an effort to keep her voice light. "That's what matters to me, now. Honesty above everything."

Fitz leans down, resting his forehead against hers. "I promise I won't ever lie to you, Olivia."

She takes a deep, shaky breath. "I believe you. Thank you." And then she smiles again before she kisses him, her hand rising to the back of his neck to hold him there, steady and sure. His arm tightens reflexively around her and he savors this moment: the feeling of her small body pressed against his and the warmth of the sunlight streaming in and how, together, they might just be able to take on the world.

When the finally break apart, Olivia briefly nuzzles her nose against his before moving back just far enough to raise her glass. "To being lucky."

Fitz lifts his own glass to meet hers. "To playing by our own rules."

"Cheers."

* * *

They dine on scallops, roast lamb and the best rosemary potatoes Fitz has ever tasted. He tells her all his favorite parts of the morning's Q&A and they debate many of the points again, finding that they share the same opinion on almost everything. Olivia's work is mainly based in the States and his is in South America, but their ethos and their aims are pretty much identical.

"I feel like we should have met before now," she says, sipping her glass of red (her choice this time, and it's impeccable). "We both live in New York and we move in all the same circles. Did you go to Seattle last fall?"

"The Global Fund? No, I was away in Colombia. I was at the MADRE event in Chicago though - were you there?"

"No, it was my cousin's wedding."

They continue like this for a while, trying to find places in which their lives might have overlapped and coming up with nothing. It's strangely disappointing, and that makes them laugh.

"It's not like it really matters," Olivia shrugs. "If we'd met sooner, you would've been happily married."

Fitz shakes his head. "I don't think I've ever been _happily married_. I would have just been in denial still. This weekend, the timing, it feels like… fate."

"Like serendipity."

They smile at one another. "Good word, Livvie," he says approvingly, reaching for her hand across the table. She glances down, linking their fingers together and then noticing the time on his watch.

"Are you going to go back to the conference?" Fitz asks, before she's said anything.

"I don't know." She looks torn. "I would really like to see the three o'clock lecture from Professor Ross."

"Okay."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not. I want to hang out with you, but I'm not gonna stop you doing whatever you want to do."

Olivia smiles and squeezes his hand. "You should come too. I'm sure there's something left to learn that you don't already know," she teases

"I doubt it," he replies smoothly, making her giggle. "We've still got a while before three. There's something else I want to show you."

"There's more?"

He catches the eye of a passing waiter and requests the check, then turns back to her with a grin. "Of course. There's always more for you, beautiful."

 _There's everything_ , he wants to tell her. He will, one day.

 _I am going to give you_ everything _._

* * *

The viewing gallery is spectacular. He'd thought the London skyline was impressive from the restaurant, but from the seventy second floor it's just magnificent - even more so when he's standing behind his lovely date, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"This is amazing," she keeps saying, her face almost pressed up against the glass like an awestruck child. It's so endearing. Fitz wants to spend every weekend like this, with her: being tourists in different cities; discovering the world together.

"You know, I've never been to the top of the Empire State Building," he admits.

"Oh my god, Fitz!" She turns in his embrace, looking at him with obvious shock. "How long have you lived in New York?"

"I don't want to say…" She waits patiently, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "Okay," he sighs. "Probably about fifteen years in total, with a break in the middle when we went back to LA."

"Wow. Well then, that's what we're doing when we get home."

It's the first time either of them has acknowledged the future in real terms, outside of their little London bubble, and his heart sings. "Does that mean I get a second date?"

Olivia laughs and he can't help but admire the exquisite architecture of her cheekbones. "I haven't decided if this is the first one yet."

"Any preliminary thoughts?"

She pretends to consider him, her fingers sliding into the curls at the nape of his neck. Her touch makes him want to close his eyes and purr like a kitten. "Not bad, so far."

"Okay," he says sweetly. "I'll take that from such a gorgeous girl."

When he kisses her, she hums against his lips in the most contented way and he lingers as long as possible, holding onto the sound.

"We should probably get going," he sighs after they finally draw apart. "I don't want you to be late for the presentation."

" _Us_ ," she corrects as they reluctantly make their way back over to the elevators. "We decided you're coming with me."

He frowns. "Did we?"

"Well, I did," she says cutely.

"Hmm." He pretends to be annoyed but they both know he'll go with her - there's no question.

Back on the ground, Fitz calls for a cab and then takes her into his arms again. He can't let go of her, even here on the sun-drenched sidewalk where there are lots of people milling around.

"What are you doing this week?" he asks, and he's slightly hesitant because there's only one answer he wants to hear. But he knows they have to talk about reality, about what happens when their bubble bursts.

Olivia doesn't look particularly phased by his question. "Well, I have the Time interview tomorrow afternoon at two. And Stephen texted me this morning - apparently I said we'd catch up before I left?"

"You don't remember?"

She shrugs, her eyes twinkling. "I don't remember much about the bar, to be honest. I was too busy being distracted by this insanely hot guy who was putting all his best moves on me."

She is _such_ a flirt - it makes Fitz want to rip off all her clothes and put his mouth on every inch of her heavenly skin. "Oh sweet baby," he says huskily, leaning down close to her ear, "Those weren't even my best moves."

He feels the way her body reacts to all his unspoken promises: her muscles tensing; her breath catching in her throat. She doesn't seem able to speak and that pleases him immensely. "So when are you flying home?" he goes on, continuing their conversation as if he hasn't just ramped up the heat by a thousand degrees.

"Uh… Tuesday afternoon," she murmurs. "But I don't really have anything on until… a fundraiser next Monday."

Fitz kisses her just below her right ear, rubbing his nose against her earlobe. "Stay here with me," he whispers, his hands tightening around her waist, letting her feel the effect she has on him. "Stay until the weekend, Livvie. There are so many things I want to show you. So many things for us to do…"

He can hear how labored her breathing is. He straightens up and gazes at her again, marveling at the desire written all over her face. "Okay," she says softly, her eyes still closed as she tries to find the present. "I'll have to double check with my assistant, but I want to stay."

She finally looks directly at him and it's a look of lust he's already very familiar with. "I want you."

"I want you too."

"I can tell." She subtly moves her pelvis against his and he has to try hard not to groan out loud.

"Don't do that. Not here."

Olivia grins at his discomfort. "Then where?"

"My room, tonight, after we have dinner together. I know you don't put out on first dates, but I'm hoping to get lucky after the second."

She laughs, clearly both aroused and flattered by how insistent he is. "You're so sure this counts as a first date, aren't you?"

"Come on, Liv. I've wined and dined you, showed you the best view in the city. What else do you need?"

"A kiss."

"A kiss? We've already kissed-"

She shakes her head, pouting those irresistible lips of hers. "No, a proper kiss. A butterflies-in-my-stomach, sweep-me-off-my-feet kind of k-"

He doesn't let her finish her sentence... It's the kind of kiss that movies end on.


	6. Where The Hell Have You Been?

**A/N:** For all my reviewers, and all my readers - you are the BEST. You inspire me every day. THANK YOU.

There's a section in the middle of this, about _'their things'_ , which I think is my favorite. Fitz is the greatest romantic, and I adore him. I hope you like it too!

* * *

 **Chapter 6 - Where The Hell Have You Been?**

They're tipsy: a giggling mess of wandering hands and freshly creased clothes; of kiss-stained lips and Champagne tongues and love bites that will be bruises in the morning. After a spectacular dinner in the hotel's Michelin-starred restaurant they're now tucked away in a booth in the dimly-lit bar, their second bottle of Veuve sitting empty in its ice bucket on the table in front of them. Fitz can't fathom how she gets sexier with every minute they spend together, but her low-cut black top and the way she laughs with her nose pressed to his cheek are doing extraordinary things to him. He wonders what the record length of time is for maintaining an erection, and thinks he's probably beaten it this evening.

Olivia begins to nibble on his neck, her fingers roaming dangerously low on his abdomen. Her right knee slides over his leg so she's half straddling him, and the way she is subtly grinding her whole body against his is sweet, sweet torture.

"I'm so wet Fitzy," she whispers, because that's the place they're at right now. Dinner was flirty with a constant, simmering undertone of inevitability. But now, high on alcohol and each other, they're so full of lust it's just spilling over.

"I can't wait to taste you again," he growls in response, and the hand that's already buried beneath her skirt finds its way from her ass to the apex of her thighs. Her panties are soaked; her heat an inferno. Fitz slips his fingers beneath the lace and she instantly begins to rub herself against him, moaning into his ear.

"Why are we still here?" she whimpers and he doesn't have a single answer for her: _Because this is fucking hot. Because you're so sexy I can't think straight. Because I don't think I can walk._

"Take me to bed," Olivia continues, running her tongue around his ear. It's so arousing he's starting to lose what little control he has left. "Take me now or I'm gonna come right here."

Fitz looks at her; sees the desire all over her face, the blazing fire in her dark eyes. He's never been with a woman who is so open: so unafraid to show everything she's feeling; so unashamed to ask for exactly what she wants. He wouldn't have expected it, given their age gap and her previous bad relationship, but he thinks it's a combination of their incredible connection and her natural confidence radiating through. Whatever the cause, watching the signs of pleasure bloom all over her body in response to him is one of the most erotic sights in the world, and he knows it's something he won't ever tire of.

He stands suddenly, grabbing her hand, curling his damp fingers around hers. There's something about being sticky, messy, together; something raw and intimate and downright _dirty_. Tonight he wants to taste the sweat on her throat, to follow its path down between her breasts with his tongue. He wants to lick and nibble and suck at her pussy until her arousal is all over his face. And afterwards, when they're sprawled out naked, unable to breathe, he wants to smell like her - like the best sex they've ever had.

There's an empty elevator waiting for them in the lobby and he kisses her before the doors have even shut, pinning her between his hard body and the mirrored wall. Somehow he manages to hit the button for the second floor, because he took the condoms to his room that morning and because it's nearer and they don't have much time. Then he resumes his exploration of her mouth, welcoming her eager tongue into his. The sounds she's making are almost animalistic and he captures every one, unwilling to let even a single breath escape into the air around them. When the elevator stops he picks her up, arms firmly beneath her thighs, and carries her across the hallway to his bedroom.

"Oh god," Olivia moans as he pushes her into the wall beside his door, holding her there with his hips as he searches for his room card. She's still moving against him, drawing her pleasure from his rock solid erection, and it's making him lightheaded. "I'm so close," she whimpers, dragging her nails up his back and into his hair like she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. Funnily enough, he knows exactly how she feels.

They almost fall into the room once he's managed to get the door open. It slams behind them, leaving them in total darkness and instantly, the heat between them reaches fever pitch. Fitz presses her against the wall again as they kiss ferociously, all tongues and teeth. He palms her breasts; she squeezes his ass and rotates her hips, and he's certain he can feel her wetness soaking through her underwear and his pants.

"You're fucking amazing," he breathes between kisses, his voice and their sounds amplified in the dark. He slips his hands beneath the hem of her top, pushing it all the way up until it's over her head and off completely. Next to go is her bra and when he finds her right nipple and drags it into his mouth she gasps, her whole body tensing in his arms.

"I need to come, baby," she groans, and she's still trying her best to get herself off on his cock, her movements rhythmic and increasingly desperate. _"Please."_

Fitz doesn't think he's ever been in a hotter situation than this: a gorgeous, half-naked girl in his arms, grinding her way to orgasm on his body, in the darkness where all their other senses are heightened. Her smell, her taste, the softness of her skin - they're all a hundred times more intoxicating now.

He lowers her feet to the floor then pulls down her skirt and panties and tells her to step out of them. He hears her kick off her shoes so she's totally bare; he's still fully clothed but that doesn't matter when he kneels down in front of her. "I like hearing you beg," he tells her. He leans forward, putting his mouth on her; he lands on her inner thigh where he bites down and she cries out. His hands cover her hips, holding her still. "What do you want, Livvie?"

He trails his lips upwards as she reflexively opens herself to him. When he licks a line along the crease of her leg, so close to where she needs him, her feels her shudder from head to toe as she moans from deep in her chest. "I want-"

Her words become incoherent as he repeats the action on her other side, this time letting his tongue linger on the soft skin just adjacent to her thin strip of hair. Then he begins to kiss her, to explore her; his lips wandering all around but never getting near enough to relieve any of her frustration. She has to tell him, first. He wants to hear the dirty words come from her pretty mouth.

"Fitz, please!"

"Please what?"

She's so unbelievably wet: he can smell it, feel it on her damp skin. He's desperate to taste her, to have the softest parts of her in his mouth. She's an addiction he's never going to be able to quit - he already knows that - so why fight it?

"Make me come. Eat me out." Her voice is strained, breathless, but direct; her words lack any hint of embarrassment. "Fuck me with your t- _ahh!_ "

Fitz doesn't need telling twice. He sucks her clit into his mouth, quickly moving down to lap at her with his tongue, delving into her depths and then returning back to the beginning again. Her fingers go to his hair as she lets out a string of the most beautiful, nonsensical sounds. She's salty-sweet, dripping wet and driving him absolutely crazy with want. His dick is throbbing, confined in his too-tight pants, and the temptation to grab hold of himself and provide some much-needed friction is almost too much.

Instead he uses his hands to push her thighs further apart; feels her body sag a little as her knees start to bend. He lifts her left leg off the ground with his right arm, flexing her hip and exposing her even more, holding her as firmly against the wall as he can. He imagines how she must look right now and it makes him growl deep in his throat and attack her even more feverishly, swirling his tongue over her in a frenzied rhythm, grazing her clit with his teeth every so often. He particularly likes doing this because it makes her cry out his name and pull on his hair, which in turn fuels the fire burning in his veins.

"I'm… almost there," Olivia gasps, and Fitz stops what he's doing and gently blows cool air onto her. Her orgasm makes her body arch so violently that she almost knocks him over; her moan is the most guttural he's ever heard. He recognizes her legs aren't going to support her anymore and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her against him as he lowers her down to the floor. Then he bends over her, finding her lips and kissing her, letting her taste herself all over his tongue. He doesn't linger too long though, because he could drown in her kisses and he wants her to come again, this time in his mouth. If he stays here, the urge to pull down his pants and fuck her will become impossible to ignore.

He trails his lips lower, easily finding her right nipple and dragging it between his teeth.

"Oh fuck," Olivia breathes. "That was… This is… so hot, baby, in the dark."

"I know." He toys with her other nipple for a moment as his fingers delve between her legs, stroking her wet folds, gently teasing her sensitive clit. She writhes beneath him. "I think you're ready for more," he murmurs, kissing his way downwards.

"Yes. God, yes."

"I want to hear you." He bites down on the soft skin of her abdomen and she cries out. "I want to hear everything you feel when I make you come again, even harder this time." And then he claims her once again, devouring her like he's a starving man. His tongue is everywhere, licking and tasting every glorious part of her within reach, and the noises coming out of her don't disappoint. God, he could do this forever. She's just _heaven_.

"Say my name," he commands, his lips barely leaving her to get the words out. He slips his index finger inside of her and she hisses it:

" _Fitz!"_

His hips jerk helplessly, trying in vain to find some relief against the floor as he fucks her with two fingers now, curling them to brush against her G spot. He draws her clit into his mouth for the final time, sucking on her, circling with his tongue until she's caught in a loop of: _"Fuck, Fitz, oh my god, fuck, oh my-"_

When she shatters, it happens in stages. She suddenly stills and goes silent for just a moment - the moment she falls off the precipice. Then she screams: a sound from deep inside her, pure and heartfelt and uncontrolled. Seconds later her hips are moving again, pushing her pussy into his face, urging him to take her further which he does with pleasure. Her scream becomes one long, continuous moan as she rides his tongue along with her orgasm, her whole body trembling from head to toe. And then, quite a while later when she's finally, _finally_ spent, she quietens and pushes him away, clamping her legs together.

But Fitz is far from satiated. He stands and strips off his clothes, using his phone light to find his way across the room. He switches on the bedside lamp and retrieves a condom from the drawer, rolling it on. When he turns back to Olivia, he's once again awestruck by just how beautiful she is: lying on the carpet by the door, naked and glowing, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Her legs have relaxed, knees apart and feet together which leaves her completely exposed to his hungry gaze. When he finally meets her eyes they're a heady combination of dazed and lustful as they roam over his body: she's satisfied but she wants more - wants _him_. Does she have any idea what she does to him, without even trying?

He's crawling on top of her in an instant, kissing her hard, thrusting into her without warning. She's so hot, so tight, so ready, and the way she gasps into his mouth and arches her back to accommodate even more of him brings him ever closer to the edge. Fitz lifts her legs around his waist and then slides his arms beneath her shoulders, so that when he kneels up she comes with him. He continues moving until he's on his back with Olivia straddling him, still buried deep inside of her.

She braces her palms on his chest and gazes down at him in the dim light, her hair falling around her face, her lips curving into a radiant smile. "Hi," she whispers and it's a moment of stillness, of intimacy - the perfect calm at the eye of the storm.

"Hi," he replies, matching her smile, doing his best to ignore the insistent pulse of desire in his groin which is urging him to move. Instead he runs his hands up her thighs, ghosting his thumb over her clit; she clenches him so deliciously that he groans. "Fuck, Livvie. Ride me baby."

His hips twitch but she stills him. She leans down and now she's smirking as she deliberately squeezes him again and again with her pelvic floor muscles. "Patience, Fitzy. It's my turn to play."

She bites on his bottom lip, pulling it with her teeth, still looking into his eyes. Then her mouth begins a path along his jaw and down to his chest, her tongue swirling over him every so often. He can feel her nipples brushing against his skin, her small hands touching him all over. She keeps her lower body still but continues to grip him rhythmically, and it's fucking hot. Everything about her is fucking hot and he's not sure how much longer he can stand it.

"Liv… I need- "

He stops speaking - he has to - when she suddenly lifts her hips and sinks down onto him again. _Hard._

She grins. "What, babe?"

Her fingers curl around his and she repeats the movement. He wants to shut his eyes, to focus on how incredible she feels, but he can't look away from her stunning form; can't tear his gaze from the sight of his cock disappearing into her body.

"Keep going," he manages to say.

"Aren't you going to say please?"

How is she smiling right now? He feels like he's falling apart. _"Please."_

"Hmm." She begins to move, taking him in over and over, doing something with her hips that's absolutely fucking heavenly. He doesn't think he's ever been deeper inside a woman. "I like hearing you beg," she says, echoing his earlier words. And they're his undoing.

His hands leave hers and he grips her waist, planting his feet firmly on the floor. "I don't _beg_ ," he growls, and it's a warning: a second later, he's thrusting up into her, faster and harder than he's ever fucked her before. Her eyes close immediately and she moans and throws her head back, allowing him free reign over her body yet again.

Fitz is already approaching the end when Olivia regains enough of her wits to start moving again. She takes over the pace, a little slower than his but just as incredible, and he stills, allowing her - wanting her - to make him come. Their eyes meet and he can see so much: pleasure, pride, affection, desire. She leans forward to kiss him but they're both so busy concentrating that it's more of a grazing of lips and an excuse to be closer, to share the same air. His fingers dig into her skin and it's not long at all before he's balancing right on the edge and just one, _two_ more thrusts of her hips and… he's there. His orgasm is explosive; he can't help but buck up into her as he rides the wave, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face in her hair.

"Fuck," he breathes against her neck, pressing his lips to her glistening skin as the electricity shooting through his limbs gradually begins to fizzle out. "You're just…"

"Amazing, I know." She pushes herself up so she can look at him, and she's smirking again. "I take it you enjoyed that?"

He kisses her instead of answering, his lips caressing hers with all the softness they'd set aside for the last half hour. He rolls them so she's on her back, pulling out of her in the process but continuing to shower her mouth and cheeks with kisses. "You _are_ amazing," he tells her solemnly (and for the second time) as he takes hold of her hand. His wedding ring glints in the lamplight and he has a very strong urge to take it off - the first such urge he's ever had. But this doesn't feel like the right time, not with Olivia right there, her body still pressed against his and glowing from their lovemaking. Removing his ring is something for _him_ ; a moment for reflection which he needs to do alone. It marks the end of a huge part of his life and, while he's more than ready to take that step, it's still going to stir up emotions he doesn't feel able to share with her.

Not yet, anyway.

He sits up instead, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, and Liv follows him. If she's sensed his sudden distance she doesn't let on; now she's giggling as she looks around the room. "We barely made it through the door," she says in response to his inquiring look, and it's true - they're in the entrance, a rectangle of carpet about three feet wide with the wardrobe built into one wall and the bathroom door just by his elbow.

"Well _someone_ was pretty desperate," he counters, helping her to her feet. _"'I need to come, Fitz. I'm so close baby.'"_

His impression of her makes her laugh - her loud and smoky laugh, the one he's already so fond of. "I didn't say I was complaining. I've always wanted to have sex in a doorway."

And now he's laughing too, drawing her close and pressing his lips to hers. "Olivia Pope, you are ridiculous."

 _And I'm falling in love with you._

* * *

They spend the night together, curled around each other in his bed, telling stories until they can no longer keep their eyes open. Fitz sleeps like a baby and with no alarm to rouse them, he finally wakes on Monday morning to find it's ten thirty AM. He gets up to use the bathroom then climbs back into bed and pulls Olivia into his arms. He gently kisses her awake, brushing his lips all over her face, trailing the tip of his nose along her throat and just breathing her in. She smells like herself and his bed and _him_ , and it stirs powerful emotions within him. He's so far gone it's unbelievable. Did they really only meet two nights ago? He feels like he's known her, slept beside her, woken up with her every day for years.

Eventually she wriggles down the bed until they're facing each other, her brown eyes sparkling in the bright morning light seeping through the curtains. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

"Hi," she says, and he thinks it's starting to become _their thing_.

"Hi," he replies, because he wants everything to become _their thing_. Morning showers together with the radio on - she'll sing constantly and he'll tease her when she misses the high notes, but he won't ever join in unless she's feeling particularly persuasive. Brunches outside New York cafes, where she'll get food envy every time and he'll let her eat everything off his plate because she's adorable when she's grumpy, and her smile is _always_ worth its price. Afternoons spent wandering, shopping, sight-seeing; holding hands, kissing on street corners, rushing home to rip each other's clothes off. Visiting the theater, Broadway, live music venues - all the places he hasn't been in so many years, all the culture he used to love but until now has had no one to share it with. Long, hot nights of lovemaking - falling to the kitchen floor when they can't make it to bed; breaking furniture and bruising flesh and desperate orgasms against the living room wall; loving her with the bedroom windows open to let in the breeze and not caring who can hear the way he makes her moan.

And when they're apart, because of work, there'll be constant text messages with all the little things that remind them of each other: he's drinking coffee from her favorite stand and yes, it's as good as ever, although there's a new barista with a bit of an attitude; she read the in-flight magazine and there was an article on Venice where they've both always wanted to go, and should they book something for next spring, or is that ridiculous with their hectic schedules? (He'll surprise her with plane tickets a week later, having cleared it with her assistant.) He'll write or say _I miss you_ a hundred times a day, and it'll be true every time. The same for _I love you._ And she'll say it back - maybe not as often because that's not her, but she'll mean it just as much.

They'll be living the life he's always dreamed of, as partners and lovers and best friends. And he's obviously fantasizing right now but he felt it the moment they met: _possibility_. The chance that they might be the greatest love story ever told. He's always been a hopeless romantic but she makes him feel anything _but_ hopeless. For the first time in too many years he is full of hope: it's overflowing from him; he can't contain it. And there are things he needs to do - now, today - to move forwards, away from the misery of his old life and towards whatever future he might be able to have with Olivia Pope.

She's kissing his neck now, her soft hands travelling downwards, and his body is responding to her before he's even fully aware of it. But he's suddenly too energized, too focused on the day ahead to stay in bed - even when she's so tempting.

"Livvie, I need to get up."

She looks at him, clearly confused. "Why?"

And now her fingers are wrapped around his cock and he's struggling to remember what he was talking about. She continues to gaze at him as she rolls him onto his back; when she begins to stroke him up and down, the last of his resolve evaporates and she smiles. "That's better," she murmurs, leaning forwards to kiss his lips before scooting down the bed and lavishing her attention on his lower abs.

Fitz groans and closes his eyes. The emails and phone calls can wait a little longer.

* * *

Olivia goes back to her room just before midday to start getting ready for her interview with the journalist from Time magazine. She has plans to see Stephen for dinner and extends the invitation to Fitz, but he offers to meet them later for a drink instead. He doesn't want to crash her catch up with her friend; nor does he want to bear Stephen's speculative gaze for an entire evening.

He showers, dresses and then heads down to the hotel's restaurant for an early lunch, taking his laptop with him. He spends the next hour doing research and then writing an email to David Rosen, his company's corporate lawyer. Finally, when he can think of no more reasons to delay it, he takes out his phone and makes a call. The international dialing tone buzzes in his ear, and then she's answering in that sickly-sweet business voice of hers which makes his skin crawl.

"Mel, it's me. We need to talk. Is this a good time?"

"Well hello to you too, honey." He can picture the sarcastic look on her face. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"Does it matter?"

"You walk out on me, with no word for over a month, and then you ask me if it matters? Of course it matters Fitzgerald!"

He resists the urge to shout back at her, to draw on the irrational anger she always stirs within him. That's the reason he's come to the restaurant instead of speaking to her in his room, where he might let his emotions get the better of him.

"Look, Mellie," he says impatiently, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm in London. I know we shouldn't be doing this over the phone, but I need to tell you something. Do you have ten minutes?"

She sighs, and he can tell she realizes what's coming. They do know one another, after all this time. "Hold my calls, Frances," she says to her secretary, and then she's back on the line. "What?"

But she's not snapping at him - she just sounds really tired all of a sudden.

The words come to him easily: "I want a divorce."

"Fitz…"

He soldiers on before she can come up with any arguments. "I'm not happy, Mel. And neither are you. We haven't been happy together for years."

There's a long pause. He can hear her even breathing and wonders what she's thinking. He debates telling her the next part or just leaving it at that, but something pushes him forwards. If he's going to start a new life, he needs to do it clean.

"I slept with someone else," he admits, his voice clear and honest. He won't pretend that he regrets it; won't apologize, although perhaps he should.

"When?" Mellie asks, and is it the lawyer in her that keeps her tone equally devoid of emotion? Or does she just not care?

"Saturday night. And last night." _And this morning_ he almost says, but stops himself just in time.

He waits for her reaction - will she shout at him? Does she feel betrayed, heartbroken, relieved? Even though they've known each other for twelve years, sometimes she is incredibly unpredictable.

And what she says next surprises him more than anything she's ever said before.

* * *

Fitz waits impatiently for Olivia to finish her interview, pacing around his bedroom in the hope she'll call and he can tell her what's going on. He needs to tell _someone_ \- he's going mad by himself. In the end he gives up and decides to head to the gym, to burn off some of this energy which is gnawing at him.

His phone rings while he's on the treadmill and he pauses it to answer. "Hi."

"Hey. I'm all done. You said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah." He's more breathless than he realized, pushing himself harder than usual, lost in his thoughts. "Sorry, I'm in the gym. I'll shower and come find you."

"Okay. The interview went well, Louise was lovely. I think it's going to be a great piece."

He smiles genuinely. "I'm glad. I can't wait to read it."

"Me neither." He can hear the pride in her voice and it makes his heart swell.

"See you soon."

She lets him into her suite half an hour later and he kisses her harder than necessary, squeezing her tightly against him. "Everything okay?" she asks afterwards, trying to catch her breath.

"Yes… I think so." She frowns as he passes her, taking a seat on one of the sofas. "I spoke to my wife on the phone. I told her I want a divorce, and that I'd slept with someone else."

Olivia sits down beside him. She seems like she wants to reach out and touch him but refrains, and he can't decide if he's grateful for that or not. "And?" she asks gently.

Fitz looks at her directly as he speaks. "She said she'd slept with someone else too… on Saturday night."

Hearing the words out loud, it suddenly hits him how bizarre the whole situation is. "It was someone from work, apparently. She said she was just as unhappy as I was, for just as long. And then she agreed to a divorce," he goes on, hardly able to believe it. "I've already emailed my company's lawyer, asking him to recommend me a divorce attorney. And Mel has a colleague she's going to speak to later today."

Olivia looks as shocked as he feels. "What does it mean, that you both cheated on the same night?"

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This is it - this is the end of his marriage. And it feels _good_.

He pulls Olivia onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "It means a quick, fault divorce and a nullified pre-nup. I have a copy of it on my computer and I read it over lunch. It clearly states that if there are wrongdoings from both parties, the entire agreement is void. Not that she needs my money; she's successful in her own right. It's just one less obstacle."

They gaze at one another for a long time. "I'm happy for you," she says at last, but there's a hint of something unsettling in her tone - and it doesn't take him long to figure it out.

"Liv, this divorce isn't because of you," he tells her firmly, cupping her face and brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Meeting you just made me realize it's what needed to happen. And I'm not _expecting_ anything, now that I'm going to be single again. I don't want to pressure you into a relationship."

Her eyes have softened and he kisses her tenderly, letting his lips linger over hers. "I'm just so grateful to have met you," he says quietly, "And I want to keep getting to know you for as long as you'll let me. I think we could be great together, Olivia."

She shakes her head ever so slightly, and when she speaks her voice is almost admonishing. "I think we _are_ great together, Fitz."

Then she smiles and the world makes perfect sense again. "I think I want to kiss you now and never stop," he grins, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"I think I want to let you," she sighs, turning her face and capturing his mouth with hers in a sweet, sensual kiss - the kind of kiss which could very well last forever.

* * *

When Fitz finally goes back to his own room a few hours later, leaving Olivia to get ready for dinner with Stephen, he realizes that he's still wearing his wedding ring. He looks down at his left hand, at the gold band which has sat there for over ten years, tying him to a person he no longer even knows. He'd thought this moment would be somehow ceremonious; bittersweet, even. But, sitting in a small hotel room on the other side of the Atlantic, with another woman's scent and taste and kisses all over his body, he feels nothing but relief.

It's difficult to get off, to slide over his knuckle, but eventually he succeeds. The ring glints in his palm, catching the light for the final time before he tucks it into the side pocket of his suitcase and fastens the zipper. He won't see it again until he takes it out to sell to a New York jeweler, weeks later. And then it'll be gone forever: another part of his old life; another stepping stone into his new one.


	7. How Fast Can You Run?

**A/N:** **Again, thank you for all your reviews, messages and follows. It means the world to me.**

* * *

She can feel him, even now. He's all over her, like the lingering scent of rain; an invisible embrace, claiming her as his.

 _Property of Fitzgerald Grant._

And all she can think is: _why has it taken us so long?_

Her lips are still tingling with the memory of their last kiss, and the one before that, and the countless others before those. How he commands her mouth as if he has all the authority in the world; as if it's his God-given right to make everything inside of her just _melt_ , like she's made of nothing but wax and he's the hottest flame, licking at her until she's completely dissolved. He kisses her in a way she's never been kissed before: _helplessly_. And she kisses him back just as desperately, because she can't get enough of the way he tastes and how soft his lips are and the moments between and after when they're both gasping for breath, noses touching, sharing the same sweet air.

She can feel his hands on her body, ghosting over her sensitive skin; the impression of his fingertips on her hips. His warmth pressed up against her: sweaty and clinging to her as they fall off the edge together; enveloping her as they sleep. She remembers the heat of his mouth on her breasts; how he lavishes attention on her nipples, sending a constant stream of the sweetest, more torturous pleasure straight to her center. And then, as her daydreaming continues, comes the memory of him lying between her legs - so tangible, as if he's really there: his teeth grazing her inner thigh; his hot, wet tongue licking her from bottom to top, tasting every inch of her, circling in on her clit…

"Liv? Olivia?"

She's dazed, disorientated; squeezing her thighs together to try and get some relief from the thundering in her core. It's difficult to leave her fantasy, to come back to reality when the alternative is so tempting, so _close._ But then the music returns to her ears, the sounds of chatter and cutlery clinking and finally, after several long seconds, the restaurant and another man's face materialize in front of her.

"Sorry. I'm in another world."

Stephen is smiling but it's hiding curiosity, and concern. She can tell - they know each other very well. "Everything okay?"

She tries to smile back, reaching for her wine glass. "Yeah. Everything's good. I'm just… tired."

"Ah. Something been keeping you awake? Or should I say some _one_?"

And now he's grinning while she tries not to betray herself by blushing or looking away. She's still flustered, aware of the heat between her legs, of her thirst to see Fitz again; to kiss him until their clothes are on the floor and he can so expertly resolve all of her frustration.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmurs and Stephen actually laughs, leaning back in his chair. She's always loved his laugh - so easy, so smooth. It comes readily, and with that charming smile of his she's never had trouble understanding why so many women fall for him. But now she's had the pleasure of hearing Fitz's laugh - deeper, richer; younger somehow, even though Stephen is his junior by several years - it seems to have lost some of its magic.

Just one more thing that pales into comparison next to Fitzgerald Grant.

"Really, Liv?" Stephen teases as the waiter clears their starters. "You forget that I know what it looks like when a girl is thinking about a man. Usually about me, of course… but I _know_."

Olivia meets his eyes, once so familiar; now seen only occasionally on Facetime, and even more rarely in person. She's never been able to hide anything from him - he can always see right through her. She thinks he's probably known her better than anyone else in her life, including Abby and her father.

That is, until Fitz. Seven years of friendship immediately swept aside by the insane connection between them. She would tell Fitz anything; give him _everything_ inside of her. And she will, she's already sure of it, because he was right: there's no choice here. She can't choose to turn around and walk away any more than she chose to fall for him the very moment they met. They are fated, inevitable; _meant to be_.

"Okay," she sighs. "You win. I _was_ thinking about... someone. I can't seem to stop myself."

"And this someone is Fitz Grant, right? The man who couldn't keep his eyes off you; who was looking at you like the rest of the world just didn't exist?" Stephen leans forward, covering her hand with his on the table. "The same man who was wearing a wedding ring?"

Olivia doesn't back away from his gaze this time, even though his description of Fitz's behavior has conjured butterflies in her stomach. "The same one," she confirms, and she can't stop a smile from curving her lips. "He's separated from his wife. They're getting a divorce."

"I see." Stephen squeezes her hand before letting go, and she can tell his protective instincts are satisfied with her response - for now. "So how long have you known each other?"

 _Forever_.

"Not long. We met on Saturday night, about four hours before we came to your bar."

Olivia can count on one hand the times she's managed to shock Stephen Finch - and this is the most stunned he's ever looked.

"Are you serious?" he exclaims, and she nods smugly. "Bloody hell, Liv. What did you do to him? The man I met was head-over-heels for you. I was actually annoyed with you because you hadn't told me you were dating someone. But you'd literally just met?"

 _Head-over-heels_. That's how she feels about Fitz too - like she's falling faster than she can make sense of. And when she's alone, when she lets herself dwell on it for just a second, it's scary; terrifying even. Are they being ridiculous? Does this actually happen to real people, outside of books and movies? Is it all going to fall apart when they go back home? Will it become just a memory - ' _that reckless, lust-fueled week in London'_ which she'll reminisce about when she's eventually settled down with someone her own age, someone who makes her happy enough but doesn't set her on fire?

Even as she thinks this, she knows she can't ever be with anyone again who isn't Fitzgerald Grant. He's absolutely electrifying: the most beautiful, thoughtful and honest man she's ever met. When she's in his presence, he makes the whole world seem brighter - more full of life, of hope, of possibility than ever before. Every time he looks at her with those eyes - the most intense, brilliant blue; the very first thing she noticed about him - she feels like she _matters,_ like he'll always be interested in whatever she has to say. And then there's the other side of him, the side which turns her on beyond belief: older, confident, powerful, with his curls and his gorgeous smile and the body of a Greek god…

He is _devastatingly_ sexy.

And she cannot get enough.

She'll never get over the way his gaze darkens as he lets it roam unashamedly over every inch of her, licking his lips as if he wants to _devour_ her. And then when he does touch her, when he puts his wicked mouth on all the places that have been starved of attention for far too long, he just feasts on her, like he's never tasted anything so good. He pleasures her easily, effortlessly, _selflessly_. He gives and gives and when it's his turn to take pleasure in return, he still manages to make it all about her - how good she feels, how hot she is, how she makes him come harder than ever before.

She's never had so many orgasms in such a short space of time before - not even close - and yet she feels utterly insatiable around him. She wants him over and over again: she wants to slide her fingers into his silky hair and wrap her legs around his hips and watch as the lines between their contrasting skin begin to blur, to disappear; as he fills her so completely and hits all her spots and takes her out of herself and into the realms of pure ecstasy.

And afterwards, as they lie together and he draws patterns on her arms and makes her giggle with some silly comment, she wonders if this is how she might get to spend the rest of her life: completely content and sated; thoroughly and infinitely _loved_. Because he's falling just as hard - she can tell. It's not just the things he says - _'Why didn't I meet you sooner? Why did I marry her, and not wait for you to show up?'_ \- but the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn't notice; the sweet little kisses because he just can't resist.

"Liv? Hello?"

She's lost again, swept away by thoughts of him, and it's even more difficult to refocus this time.

"He can't be that good, can he?" Stephen asks, his voice slowly filtering through, and she's nodding before she can even think about it, a grin on her lips.

"He's… fucking amazing."

Her friend whistles. "Wow. Olivia Pope using the F word."

"I know. I'm a mess, Stevie," she sighs, squeezing her eyes shut and running her hands over her face in an effort to clear her head. "I want him all the time. Whenever he looks at me I just want to take off my clothes and tell him to do whatever the fuck he wants with me. He's just… he's _incredible_." She picks up her wine glass and stares at the red liquid inside, thinking over her words. "Am I crazy? Can this be real?"

When she meets Stephen's gaze he looks almost sympathetic. "You're asking the wrong person, Liv. I get the sex part, the insatiable desire for someone, but the look on your face just now? You're in much deeper than I've ever been… than I'd ever want to be."

She contemplates him for a long moment. Is it really that obvious? Has the Olivia Pope that he's always known, that she's always been - guarded, pragmatic, ever the realist - become a carelessly romantic, hopelessly smitten mess after just forty-eight hours?

And if she has - does she care?

It seems like too much to think about right now. She shakes her head and then downs the last of her wine in two swallows, setting her glass back on the table. "You're so helpful," she quips, although her frustration is with herself, not with him.

Stephen just grins again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Their waiter returns with their main courses, topping up their glasses on his way back to the kitchen. The food smells delicious and Olivia is taking her first bite when Stephen speaks again: "Can I say something honestly?"

She frowns, confused as to why he would ask. "Of course."

"When you were with Edison, before he… well, you know." She nods quickly, although the memory stings a little less every time. "Even when you were doing well together, you never spoke about him the way you've just spoken about Fitz. You seemed happy, sure, but never… _excited_. And we both know why, in the end. But when I saw you with Fitz on Saturday night… he lit you up, Liv. You've been so sad for such a long time, even though you always pretend you're fine. So if you've met a great guy who really makes you feel as beautiful and as precious as you are, then I think you'd be crazy _not_ to carry on falling for him. Because you deserve someone who will love you exactly as you are."

The tears that started gathering on her eyelashes at the beginning of his speech are now spilling unceremoniously onto her cheeks. Of course Stephen knows: he thinks he can't give relationship advice because he's never been in a serious one, but he knows _her_. He knows her deepest fears; he knows about her father and all the ways in which Edison ruined her. And his words, so genuine and heartfelt, combined with all the things she's been feeling for Fitz, finally settle something inside of her.

This is going to be her fresh start. What's happened in her past is no longer going to define who she becomes. And if ever there was a reason to move forward, to let go of the bitterness and betrayal she's been holding onto for far too long, it's the chance that she might get to make a huge life with Fitz.

Because something tells her they're worth that. Something tells her this is the start of a great story.

Something tells her this where the rest of her life begins.

* * *

They spend the rest of their meal catching up on Stephen's news, on the successes and struggles of his business, on the various ladies he's been involved with lately (or not as involved as they'd like him to be, which is the root of all his problems). By the time they've perused the dessert menu and decided they're too full to eat any more, it's nine o'clock and Olivia is acutely aware of the fact that at any minute, Fitz is going to walk through the door and all the composure she's managed to regain is going to be shot to hell.

It happens less than a minute later. Suddenly Stephen stands, extending his hand to someone approaching from her left, and her heart begins to race when she catches the scent of his cologne, when she hears his impossibly smooth voice: "Hey, Stephen. Great to see you again."

"Likewise. Let me get you a chair."

They're momentarily alone and Olivia takes a deep breath before finally risking a glance up at him. She immediately wishes she hadn't: he looks ridiculously handsome in a navy blue suit and white shirt, his eyes dark and full of desire as he shamelessly appraises her. She feels her body flood with heat and watches as a smirk forms on his gorgeous lips. He can read her far too easily - she would feel embarrassed if there was room in her head for anything other than her overwhelming lust for him.

"Hello, beautiful."

He leans down to kiss her, deliberately aiming for the corner of her mouth, and having him so close - his smooth skin brushing hers, his breath ghosting across her lips - instantly makes her soak right through her underwear. She wants to throw her arms around his neck and pull him into a proper kiss but he's already standing upright again, still smirking as he takes her hand and squeezes it.

"Here you go." Stephen reappears, setting down a chair for Fitz which he takes gracefully. He lets go of her hand and moves his below the table, sliding his fingers beneath her skirt to rest just above her knee. His touch makes her ache for him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says as Stephen gestures to a passing waiter.

"No, of course not. Can we order some more drinks please?"

"Certainly Sir. What can I get you?"

Olivia is barely listening, mesmerized by Fitz's profile in the low light of the restaurant: the curl falling onto his forehead, the length of his nose, his strong jawline; the way his mouth moves as he and Stephen discuss whiskey with the waiter. His fingers intermittently flex on her leg, his thumb stroking her skin, letting her know she still has his attention.

Good, because he's had all of hers from the moment they met.

"Do you want another glass of wine, Liv?" Stephen asks, and yet again she has to try hard to formulate an answer.

"Um… No, I'm okay thanks. Could I please get an Amaretto liqueur?"

"Of course."

The waiter disappears and she can sense Fitz's gaze on her as he absorbs this new piece of information. That's one of the things which makes him so intense: he wants to know everything about her; she seems to fascinate him. Is it any wonder she's fallen for him so hard?

"So, Liv tells me you two only met this weekend. I find that very hard to believe."

Stephen is looking between the two of them with amusement, clearly aware of the charge in the air. She glances at Fitz and he smiles, both proud and reassuring.

"It's true," he says, not taking his eyes off her. "Olivia is… something else."

There are so many emotions in his voice: amazement, affection, _longing_. She holds his gaze for a moment but it's making her hot all over so she has to look away.

"She is pretty great," Stephen agrees, and now they're both staring at her as her blush deepens.

"Stop it you two," she murmurs, running a hand through her hair. "I'm far from perfect."

"Well, of course you have flaws," her friend says with a grin. "You're a bad driver and a terrible cook."

"Hey!" But he's right, and she can't help but laugh. Fitz withdraws his hand from her leg and looks at her with a serious expression.

"If you can't cook, Livvie, I don't think we should carry on seeing each other. I need a woman who can prepare my meals, clean my kitchen-"

He stops talking when she punches his arm, laughing at her indignant expression. "I cannot _believe_ you just said that!"

"Hey, I was kidding," he chuckles, holding out both hands in self-defense. "Kind of."

"Not funny, mister."

But he is, with his adorable grin which lights up his eyes, and she's smiling despite herself.

"When you try her cooking," Stephen adds, "You won't want her in the kitchen, believe me. Do you remember the meatloaf?"

"Oh my god, can we not go there?"

It's too late. Once he's on a roll there's no stopping him, and she's forced to listen to one mortifying story after another as Stephen lays out all her flaws on the table. She doesn't really mind though, and neither does Fitz - he still looks at her every other minute with unconditional acceptance, with ever-growing desire. At some point his right hand finds its way back to her thigh and this time, it stays there.

It's quite a while later when they finally finish their drinks and the conversation winds down. They've covered a lot of ground: the origins of her and Stephen's relationship, right from their very first class together at Yale; her recent work for the UN, and the backstage gossip from several events she attended over the summer; Fitz's projects, his ambitions, his hobbies. It warms her heart that the two men have gotten along so well: it's unspoken, but they all realize that Fitz is going to become a big part of their lives.

"Right," Stephen says at last, "I need to get to the bar, see how they're coping without me."

"It's a Monday," Olivia frowns after he asks the waiter for their check. "Surely it's not busy?"

"Ah, this is London. It's always busy. What time is your flight tomorrow?"

She looks at Fitz who smirks back as if to say, Y _ou're on your own_.

"I've decided to stay a little longer, to… see the sights."

Stephen gazes between the two of them and she can tell he instantly knows she's lying. "I see," he says, obviously amused. The waiter returns to take Stephen's payment - he insists, as she's a visitor in his city - and with his attention elsewhere, hers focuses in solely on Fitz. He's already looking at her, something which has happened more times than she can count in the short time they've known one another. He seems captivated by her, like he can't _not_ look at her, and it's insanely arousing.

She can't wait much longer to get him alone. His eyes tell her he feels exactly the same.

"It was so good to see you, Olivia," Stephen says as they all stand, and she rounds the table to hug him.

"You too. I've missed you."

She begins to let go but he holds onto her. "He's the one, isn't he?" he murmurs against her ear, and it's so unexpected and suddenly so _real_ that she gasps.

"Yes," she whispers, her heart pounding. She glances at the man in question to see that he has politely retreated but, as ever, his gaze remains fixed on her. "I think he is."

"Good, because you're made for each other." Stephen draws back so her can look at her; when he speaks again, it's at normal volume. "Stay happy, gorgeous. It really suits you."

He kisses her cheek and then finally lets her go with a beaming smile. "I hope we meet again soon," he says to Fitz, holding out his hand. "Make sure you look after my favorite girl."

"I will," Fitz smiles. He puts his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him, pressing his lips to her temple. Olivia feels her cheeks getting hot, unused to displaying affection in front of her friends, but she still slips her hand beneath his jacket and rests it on his lower back as they make their way outside. It's a cool night but she barely notices, absorbing Fitz's warmth.

"Make sure you two have a great time… _seeing the sights_ ," Stephen winks before he turns and walks away, finally leaving them alone.

Olivia watches him go even as Fitz turns her towards him, trying to prepare herself for what's about to come. His big hands cover her hips and he leans down, nuzzling his face against her neck, instantly raising goosebumps all over her skin. His body is so hot, his scent overwhelming. She _wants_ him - desperately. Her eyes fall closed and her breath catches in her chest as she gives in to him, right there on the street.

"Hi, Livvie."

His teeth graze along her throat, biting gently. When he reaches her ear, she wraps her arms around him, her body rising into his. "Hi," she says, breathless. She draws back and their eyes meet for the briefest second before she's kissing him, or he's kissing her - it doesn't really matter, not when his tongue is parting her lips and she's tasting the whiskey flavor of his mouth; not when he's pulling her closer, when she can feel all the muscles of his torso, his rapidly rising erection. He sets her on fire, makes her _burn_ for him. They're fully clothed, standing on the sidewalk, and she's almost ready to come for him already.

"Baby," he groans, clutching her face in his palms as eventually they break apart, gazing down at her with nothing but hunger in his eyes. "I've been wanting to do that all night. You are so sexy."

She covers his hands with her own and links their fingers together, trying to steady herself. It's difficult when she's still completely enveloped by him, when their chests are still rising and falling together.

"You taste like the first time we kissed," she says, her voice unsurprisingly husky. She doubts she'll ever be able to try whiskey again, or smoke a cigarette, and not be reminded of that night: of the intensity of their desire for one another; of its culmination on the rooftop, and everything that followed.

Her arousal doubles just thinking about it.

"You taste like Amaretto," Fitz replies with a smile. "I hate Amaretto. But I love it on you."

She doesn't get chance to respond before he's kissing her again - deeply, as if to prove his point. When they next draw apart for air his hands are under her skirt, high on the backs of her thighs, and hers have slipped beneath the waistband of his pants.

"Hotel?" she suggests, and it doesn't even need to be a question because she already knows what his answer will be.

"Yes. Definitely."

She kisses him one last time before they separate, straightening their clothing. Fitz takes hold of her hand and she grins up at him as they begin to walk the short distance back to their hotel. It feels so normal, so _right_ , to stroll along beside him; to show the whole world that they're together.

After a few moments of contented silence, she can't help but say it: "I can't believe you don't like Amaretto. I'm not sure we can be friends anymore."

He laughs, looking down at her with humor sparkling in his blue eyes. "That's okay - I have no interest in being your friend."

And now she's laughing as well, and it obviously triggers something inside him because suddenly he's holding her against a lamppost, kissing her neck, her jaw, her eager mouth. "Sorry," he murmurs - unnecessarily - a minute later. "I couldn't resist. I _can't_ resist you, Olivia."

There he goes again: stunning her with his words. He's so open, so earnest, and she vows in that moment to always try her best to be the same in return. It won't be easy - she's always kept her thoughts, her emotions closely guarded - but it's the very least he deserves.

"You don't have to resist me," she tells him, tracing his lips with her thumb. "You just have to get me back to the hotel."

He grins, then gently bites on her thumb. It's inexplicably erotic.

"You are one smart cookie, Miss Pope," he says as he takes her hand again, leading them onwards.

"I know. But I bet you have no interest in my brain either, right?"

"Not really."

"So what are you interested in? Apart from whether or not I can cook."

He looks at her, his expression playful and incredibly flirtatious. "I can't possibly say out here, in public. You'll have wait and see. In fact," he continues, his voice becoming lower with every word, "I might even show you… if you're lucky."

Olivia feels a shudder run through her body, intensifying the heat which has been smoldering inside her all evening. "How fast can you run?" she asks, only half joking.

"Not fast enough," he replies, very seriously.

They quicken their pace.

* * *

It's only when they're in his bedroom, when they're stripping off each other's clothes between scorching kisses, that she finally notices what's missing.

"You took off your ring," she breathes, holding up his left hand in the light of the bedside lamp.

Fitz kisses her again, entangling their tongues, making her lose her train of thought completely. "I want _you_ ," he says, gazing deep into her eyes. His hands slip beneath the hem of her top, sliding up her body, pausing over her breasts so he can watch the way he makes her moan. She raises her arms, desperate to be naked with him, to have him fill her up and set every nerve ending alight. When he's removed her top and bra he holds both her wrists in one hand, keeping her arms above her head as he backs her into the wall.

The way he's looking at her combined with the hardness of his beautiful body as he invades her personal space is too much. "I'm yours, if you want me," he murmurs, and she knows then that he's the most incredible gift she'll ever receive.

She kisses him, maintaining eye contact even as her back arches, pushing her aching nipples against his bare chest. "I want you," she says against his lips, her voice strong and sure. She presses several smaller kisses to his mouth, his chin. It's so intimate, staring into his eyes as they kiss, as they let their bodies react to each other. She feels his free hand tug down her panties, shortly followed by the sound of his belt and the rest of his clothes hitting the floor.

He lets her arms come to rest around his neck and lifts her, pinning her into the wall and entering her with one slow, deliberate thrust. She wasn't expecting it: a gasp leaves her throat as she adjusts to his size, so long and thick inside of her. Wetness floods her, covering him in her fluid. His eyes darken even further; she wants to close hers, to savor the feeling of being connected to him like this, but she can't look away.

He doesn't move for what feels like an eternity. They're so close that their lips brush every now and again; so close that when she inhales on his exhale, she can taste the whiskey on his breath. His heart is racing just as fast as hers, beating against her ribs. She's taken off her clothes for three other men before him but she realizes that she's never actually been naked with anyone until this moment, right now.

And that makes it difficult to breathe.

He carries her to the bed, eventually; lays her down and kisses his way over her entire body, from her forehead to her toes. It's so quiet in the room, the only sounds his lips intermittently leaving her skin and the soft moans she can't help but make. The whole thing feels like a dream except for the fire deep inside of her: its slow and steady growth; its inherent pulsation as the heat builds, stronger every time. She could probably come at any moment but she doesn't _want_ to - this place she's in right now can only be described as heaven, and she never wants to leave.

Fitz withdraws from her some time later, when every cell of her body is burning for him. She's panting, her skin glowing, even though she hasn't moved a muscle. He returns moments later, rolling on a condom before seating himself in the middle of the bed and gesturing for her to join him. She climbs into his lap without hesitation, sinking down onto his erection as she wraps her heavy limbs around him. Their shared groan is the most noise they've made for a long time.

Olivia doesn't move but she kisses him properly now, unleashing all the passion he's been so patiently kindling. She feels him grow inside of her, his hips twitching, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her down even further onto him. She's never been so full: pleasure radiates outwards like fireworks bursting to life. If she focuses on the sensation, and on the way his tongue is moving against hers and all the points at which their skin is touching, her climax is _right there_ , just waiting for her surrender.

She withdraws from him slightly, wanting to know if he's close too. His blue eyes are almost entirely black now and there's sweat on his brow which has nothing to do with exertion. She's never seen a man look so far gone. He lets his gaze roam over her face and she thinks he almost smiles, but it disappears before she decides if it's real or not. Then his lips are on hers and he's still looking into her eyes as he whispers the one word she needs:

" _Come."_

She lets go.

And the floodgates open.

Fitz begins to move now, pounding up into her as her orgasm crashes over her, as she loses reality because these tidal waves of ecstasy cannot be contained inside her fragile human body. And they don't stop: he's still moving, still taking her further. She clings to him, her back arched, her cries aimed at the stars. It feels like forever and not long enough before he comes too, shouting out helplessly, gripping onto her until she thinks he might break her.

She'd let him, after that. She'd let him do anything he wants, for the rest of their lives.

They finally collapse: he falls back and she moves to lie beside him, making herself lightheaded in the process. It's hard to get enough oxygen to her brain, although her heart and lungs are trying their best. She feels his hand take hers, intertwining their fingers, and turns to face him. His expression is indescribable; all she knows is the way it makes her feel, which is surprisingly simple to interpret.

 _She's falling in love with him._

It's happening right now, with every second that passes. And it's not just because of the phenomenal sex, although she hasn't even begun to process exactly what that was; exactly how he spoke so fluently to her body, her soul, and shook her entire world.

It's because he's the other half of her: he makes her whole.

It's because when she pictures her future, he's in every shot.

It's because he's falling in love with her too, and that… that is _everything_.


	8. What Happens When We Go Back Home?

**A/N:** To everyone who is still here, to those who have read and reviewed from the beginning, to those who are joining later - thank you. I really, really mean it. You are all amazing.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: What happens when we go back home?**

Olivia moves into his room.

She fills up his closet with her clothes; plugs in her phone charger next to the empty bedside table; puts her toothbrush and make up by the sink, her vanilla body scrub in the shower. Fitz watches her from one of the armchairs, relaxing back with his ankle resting on his opposite knee, and wishes they were actually moving in together - forever. There isn't a part of his life that he doesn't want her to fill.

Everywhere she isn't, he's not interested in being.

"Who do you think has moved into the Presidential Suite?" she asks at one point, changing her shoes for the fourth time, evaluating their effect on her ensemble in the mirror. If it was Mellie keeping them waiting, Fitz would have walked out long ago: he would have sat impatiently in the kitchen, playing with the car keys, deliberately not even commenting on her appearance when she was finally ready to leave. Passive-aggressive was their default setting, at the end.

But with Olivia, he's more than happy to simply sit and watch her: to observe the way her lithe body moves; how she plays with her hair every so often, pushing her curls back or loosening them with her fingers, as if it makes all the difference to her outfit. And maybe it does - who is he to say, when it took him less than two minutes to dress in salmon chino shorts and a navy polo shirt?

She looks stunning, either way. She always will.

"I don't know," he replies, amused.

"Do you think it could be a foreign president? Or royalty?"

"You mean-"

Fitz leans forwards suddenly and grabs her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap, making her squeal. It fills him with joy, how they're so playful with each other.

"-Someone who's actually important?"

He laughs as he kisses the outraged look off her gorgeous face, persisting until she's forgiven him and is kissing him back; until she's melted in his arms.

"You're mean," she murmurs a short while later, twirling her fingers through the curls at the back of his neck in a way which makes him want to purr.

He smiles and rubs her nose with the tip of his. "You've said that before… and it's still not true."

"Prove it."

"I will."

He kisses her again, not just to show his niceness but because he can't help himself. She's so beautiful, with blush on her cheeks and sunlight in her eyes. She tastes minty and soft, her mouth so pliant beneath his, and it might be their hundredth kiss but the magic isn't fading - quite the opposite. His can feel his body starting to heat up, his hands slipping under the hem of her royal blue dress (which is just a long t-shirt, as far as he can tell, although he's not complaining because the way it clings to every toned curve is sensational).

But too soon Olivia is pulling away, removing his hands from her thighs. Her smile is coy and she gazes at him through her eyelashes, trying to catch her breath.

"Fitz, stop. You're so bad. We'll never get to see any of London if we just stay here having sex."

"London's overrated," he says dismissively, taking advantage of the way she tilts her head back and laughs to press kisses along her throat.

"Mmm… Well I'd like to judge for myself, thank you. And besides, we've run out of condoms remember?"

Fitz lifts his head to meet her gaze. "Who said anything about condoms? I was just going to use my mouth."

He grins when her eyes widen, her expression clouding with desire. "But you want to see the city," he continues casually, "So let's go."

He stands, making her get up too. She smooths down her dress, checks her hair in the mirror one final time. She's trying to hide the fact that he's flustered her and it's adorable, how she thinks he might not notice, because he notices everything about her. Observation is one of his strengths: reading people, learning what makes them tick and how best to charm them into acquiescing to his requests. Skills learned at his father's knee, in a political household, and honed ever since. He's built his charity, his business, his entire life on his ability to win people over; to appeal to their better selves, to make them believe in his vision and want to share it with him. And maybe that's a form of manipulation but he's always done it with the best intentions; he's always been honest.

As it's turned out, the only lies he's ever told have been to himself.

They're waiting for the elevator when Olivia has finally gathered herself enough to speak again. "Can you imagine who else has had sex in that bed in the Presidential Suite?"

He's surprised. "What?"

She laughs at his expression. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"I honestly haven't. I was too busy having sex in there with you." They step into the elevator and the way she's smiling at him makes him lean down and kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "But whether it's the King and Queen of Monaco or Brad and Angelina, I doubt it was as good as ours."

"Well, obviously."

Her smile becomes a grin and they kiss again, completely lost in each other. They haven't needed to discuss how good the sex is - it's very clear that their chemistry is extraordinary, and that it's new for the both of them. Fitz is curious about Olivia's past relationships, particularly with Edison, but he doesn't need to hear her say it to know that what they've experienced together over the last three days is unlike anything she's had before. And he's the same - there's no comparison.

Especially…

"Last night," he says to her as they cross the lobby, taking hold of her hand. "…What was that?"

They didn't talk, afterwards. He looked into her eyes for eternity, until she could barely keep them open any longer. They took turns in the bathroom and then he cradled her as she fell asleep, pressing his lips to her hair, still breathing together in sync. He wanted to tell her things: silly things, random thoughts; his secret desires and wildest dreams. He wanted to share everything with her, to confess to every sin, to admit to every flaw, but he didn't need to - she had already seen it all.

She gazes up at him now, following him onto the sidewalk and left, towards the river. "I don't know," she says, and Fitz thinks she seems suddenly anxious. "Have you ever... done that before?"

He shakes his head. "No. _Definitely_ not."

A look of relief crosses her features, followed by a smile which she tries - and fails - to hide. Did she really think he had sex like that often, that it's one of his usual moves? Maybe they do need to talk about it after all. He tugs on her hand, pulling her towards the wall of buildings, out of the stream of mid-morning tourists and commuters.

"Olivia, that was new for me. _This_ is new for me." He draws her closer, gazing into her eyes, willing her to see how earnest he is. "I've never been this attracted to anyone. I've never craved anyone like I crave you. And last night wasn't planned; it wasn't something that had ever crossed my mind before. I just… couldn't stop looking at you. I wanted to worship you. I still do. "

He tenderly brushes her hair away from her face, watching as her eyes become glossy with tears. "Are we crazy?" she whispers, and it makes him laugh.

"Yes. I'm crazy about you."

She exhales a short, incredulous laugh, looking away to the side, shaking her head. "You don't even know me," she murmurs, and when she gazes at him again there's something new there, something like fear; like she's suddenly overwhelmed.

"So tell me things," Fitz says gently, giving her a moment to recover herself. She's young and she's been hurt, and he's not trying to rush her but maybe he is. Maybe he shouldn't be saying these things, speaking so candidly from his heart, but she wants honesty and he won't pretend there aren't already feelings involved. They both know better than that.

There's a long pause. She's searching his face and he lets her, waiting patiently until she's sorted through her emotions, until her moment of panic has passed. "What kind of things?" she asks eventually, her voice sweet and almost shy, and it's so endearing. He feels his heart swell as he falls for her all over again.

"I don't know. Your favorite color, favorite season. What you got for Christmas last year. What you like to do when you're alone, for you."

She smiles, her brown eyes so full of warmth now, and he wonders if she can sense his burst of affection for her, if she's reflecting it back. "White. Winter. A Victoria Beckham purse. Yoga, reading, dancing to old records in my pajamas."

Fitz pictures her in that last scene, wearing an old t-shirt and tiny shorts, and wants to be there more than anything he's ever wanted before. "The glamorous life of a celebrity, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "Please don't use that word."

"Glamorous?"

Her instant giggle makes his smile broaden. "No! _Celebrity_. Ugh, I hate that. I don't want to be 'famous' because I wear designer clothes and turn up to a few parties. I just want to do my job, to do what I'm passionate about."

She's becoming more and more serious with every word. "I know I shouldn't complain because women's rights definitely needs the publicity, and I'm privileged to have such a platform to speak from. But the whole concept of celebrity is terrifying: the paparazzi, the articles in trashy magazines speculating about everything from my diet to my love life. And they don't even bother me too much at the moment, but I feel like it's going to get worse. Who would want that?"

She takes a step back, putting space between them. "You make it so easy to forget," she says softly, her gaze traveling over his face again, and it's mostly a compliment but he feels a little bit accused.

"To forget what?" he frowns.

"That you're a married man; that a month ago you were still living with your wife. To forget that this isn't real life. You say one sweet thing, give me that smile and I lose all sense of perspective. But we're in a bubble, Fitz, and it's not real." She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "What happens when we go back home? When we're seen together in public, and then the media find out you're married and call me a home-wrecker - or worse?"

"I won't be married for much longer. Maybe a month or two." He moves towards her, out of the shade of the buildings and into the sunlight hitting the street. She doesn't withdraw but she still looks very uneasy. "Olivia, this is on _me_ , not on you. You've done nothing wrong."

"That is _not_ the way they'll see it, and you know it."

"So what are you saying?"

For the first time since they met, he feels afraid. The reality of their situation doesn't scare him because he knows that their connection is strong enough to withstand any storm; that the chance to be with her is worth fighting any enemy for. But maybe, in the harsh light of day... Maybe she doesn't feel the same.

If he loses her now, he doesn't know what he'll do.

Olivia has obviously sensed his fear. Her body softens, her arms uncrossing as she closes the distance between them again. She puts her hands on his hips and looks up at him, so tiny with her flat sandals on. "Fitz, I want you. I'm crazy about you too."

He breathes out, releasing all the sudden tension in his muscles, letting his heart rate settle. _Thank god._

"But," she continues as he draws her closer, "We need to be careful. We need a plan. I don't want my private life to become public property."

"Livvie, I won't let that happen. I'll protect you."

She smiles, and it feels like far too long since he's seen it. "I know you will."

She rests her face against his chest and he hugs her tightly, kissing her hair. There are people moving around them, heavy traffic on the road not three feet away, but the picture is blurred, the sound dimmed. There's nothing that can distract him from the girl in his arms.

 _His girl._

"You know," he says after a minute, "I quite like the idea of keeping us a secret for a few months. As much as I want to tell the whole world we're together, it might be fun to sneak around."

Olivia gazes up at him. "Fun?"

"Yeah. We can go to bars, to parties, and pretend we don't know each other." He slides his hands down her back, resting them at the base of her spine, holding her firmly against him. "But the whole time we'll be imagining each other naked, and I'll whisper everything I'm going to do to you in your ear and you'll have to pretend we're just making small talk, even when I know I'm turning you on... making you wet."

He dips his head, ghosting his lips over hers. "Can you imagine how hot we'll be for each other when we finally get back home?"

She lets out a little helpless moan as she lifts her chin and presses her mouth to his, not breaking eye contact. He's instantly transported back to last night: to being bare inside of her, buried in her heat, her silky wetness, as she enveloped him so tightly. A million and one dirty thoughts fill his mind and when she bites on his bottom lip, tugging with her teeth, he groans.

" _Baby."_

Somehow she draws away, evading his attempt to kiss her properly. "Fitz stop," she sighs, her breathing ragged. "You're your own worst enemy."

He sighs too. "I know. But it's your fault really."

" _My_ fault?" She moves out of his embrace and takes hold of his hand instead, starting to walk in the direction they were going. Fitz follows reluctantly - he was seriously entertaining the idea of just taking her back to the hotel, sightseeing be damned.

"Yes, for being so irresistible. I can't look at you and not want to kiss you."

She grins and points to her cheek with her index finger; he presses his smiling lips there, barely interrupting his stride.

"You're so cute."

"I know. Now show me a good time, mister."

He winks at her. "The _best_."

* * *

Fitz takes her to the South Bank first, because it's only ten minutes from their hotel and it's always been one of his favorite places to wander, to admire all the landmarks along the river. They cross Waterloo Bridge, pausing halfway so Olivia can take photos. It's a beautiful day, the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds, sunlight glinting off the water. She coerces him into a selfie together - he lets her take a nice one and then dives in for a kiss during the second, making her laugh out loud and try to dodge him.

That's his favorite picture by far.

They stroll along beside the Thames, passing market stalls selling everything from old books to hot nuts; past galleries and theaters, shops and cafés all busy and bustling. They queue for the London Eye even though she's already had a great view of the city from The Shard, because it's a must-do and Fitz has never actually been on it before. He holds her during their ride, standing behind her with his hands splayed on her abdomen, and it just feels so right. Despite the twenty other people with them in the capsule, they're in a world of their own as they comment on the view, making each other laugh, kissing whenever the mood takes them. He hadn't realized how much he's missed being affectionate with someone; how his innate desires to care for, to protect, to _love_ another person have been all-but forgotten somewhere along the way.

And it's blissful.

They buy lunch from Borough Market, freshly made falafel with tzatziki, and eat it back outside in the sun, strolling along. It's Olivia's choice and it's delicious. "You have excellent taste," he tells her when they've finished and she smirks, her gaze traveling very deliberately down his body.

"I know."

Fitz grins and takes her hand again. "Are you checking me out?"

She nods, biting on her bottom lip, her expression mischievous. "I am."

"And?"

She turns into his embrace, looking up at him with beautifully wide eyes. "I guess you'll do," she says, and she manages to keep a straight face for less than a second before she starts to laugh. He scoops her up in his arms, holding her around the waist, making her cry out.

"Fitz! Put me down!"

Now he's the one looking up at her, smiling. "Not until you take that back."

She giggles, her arms coming to rest on his shoulders. "And what if I don't?"

"Then something _very_ bad will happen."

Her face softens, his playful mood obviously just as endearing as hers. She leans down and presses her mouth to his, cupping his face in her hands. They wait there in the moment together, just being, until they move at the same time, deepening the kiss. Fitz slowly lowers her back to the ground as their tongues meet, as she whimpers and arches her back. Someone wolf whistles but neither of them try to withdraw. He's already thoroughly turned on, lust sweeping through his veins. He's never been so affected by kissing someone as he is by Olivia Pope.

"I want to go back to the hotel," she breathes, her lips returning to his instantly as her fingers curl into his hair.

"What about sightseeing?" he murmurs, and then thinks: _why am I arguing?_

"We can say we tried." She kisses his neck, nipping his skin with her teeth. "London will be here forever. The way I feel about you... it can't wait."

If he wasn't already seduced those words alone, spoken in her breathless voice, would convince him.

"Then let's go, gorgeous."

* * *

It's his mouth.

The things he says with it, like how he'll protect her, how he's _crazy_ about her - things which make her heart pound, which conjure butterflies in her stomach. It's the shape of his lips; his easy smile with all those perfect teeth. And then his _kisses_... He's got the handsome looks, the phenomenal body, but the way he kisses her is just _so_ sexy.

And kisses are her favorite. They can be sweet, quick and tender or hot, heavy and deliciously wet - either way, they're consuming. The world falls away with a good kiss. It's nothing learned or practiced, just pure chemistry. She knew from the moment she met Fitz that he would take her breath away; that as soon as their lips touched, she would be his - and she was right.

Now they're standing in the middle of a busy street and she's _burning_ for him. Kissing him makes fireworks burst to life inside of her, fizzing with anticipation; as they fall, their embers come to land deep in her core and stay there, pulsing, smoldering. She loves the way his hands hold her face, sliding his fingers into her hair, or how he wraps his arms around her, cocooning her inside his embrace. She loves how she can hear his breathing change, how she can feel his reactions throughout his body and know that for him, kissing her is every bit as intoxicating. Most of all, she loves that he makes her want more. She feels like she won't ever be satisfied, like she won't ever stop wanting to feel his mouth on hers. He's just the most delicious thing; she's already addicted.

She even wonders if he could make her come from kisses alone, but right now that would take patience she simply doesn't possess. Now she just needs _him_.

They stop at a general store on their way back to pick up an embarrassingly large number of condoms. "Fitz, I don't think we need this many," she murmurs while they're queuing to pay.

"Says the girl who can't leave the hotel for more than three hours at a time."

He's so cocky, and she would hate to admit it to him but it's insanely arousing. Even standing next to him in the queue, just being aware of his heat, his masculine scent, is turning her on. Will she ever get enough of him? It seems he's having similar thoughts because his eyes have taken on that familiar darkness, that simmering desire, which she's already become so attuned to.

"These are on you, by the way," he says, his low voice next to her ear sending shivers down her spine. "I bought the last ones. Gender equality and all that."

He's teasing her, grinning, and she can't help but mirror his expression. "You're such a dork," she says affectionately, nudging him with her shoulder. "But a cute one, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

They move forward as the elderly man in front leaves with his milk and loaf of bread, a much more usual purchase at two o'clock in the afternoon. Fitz doesn't take his eyes off her as she greets the cashier, and it's distracting enough that she almost misses the look of surprise on the girl's face.

"That's twenty-nine pounds ninety-eight," she says and Olivia hands over her card, barely able to focus on anything except Fitz's hand resting on her lower back, his thumb gliding slowly over her skin through the thin cotton of her dress.

"Okay, here's your receipt. Have a great afternoon."

"Oh we will, thank you."

 _Did I really just say that out loud?_ she thinks as she tucks the boxes into her purse and turns to leave, feeling her cheeks flush. Clearly her state of arousal and impatience to get back to the hotel are preoccupying her mind, allowing her tongue free reign.

"Olivia Pope, what has gotten into you?" Fitz says when they're outside again, his voice full of amusement. He takes hold of her hand and when she looks at him she can't stop the laughter pouring out. She feels giddy, reckless... and overwhelmingly horny.

"I don't know. _You_."

"Not yet," he quips and she laughs again because he's funny, and charming, and _so_ handsome when he smiles like that.

"Condoms are expensive," she muses, noting absently that their pace now is significantly quicker than their morning stroll. "I think I need to go back on the pill when we get home."

"Good idea." He leans down, kissing her temple, allowing his lips to linger. "I loved being bare inside of you last night."

The huskiness of his voice sends a jolt of desire through her belly, hot liquid pooling between her thighs. She wants him inside of her again, _right_ _now_.

"Do you know any shortcuts?" she asks, and it sounds a little desperate but she can't bring herself to care.

"Patience, Livvie. Good things come to those who wait." She glances up at him as they pause at a street crossing, admiring the smirk on his lips, his well-defined pecs and biceps which are straining against his shirt sleeves, his flat stomach and narrow hips. He is a beautiful man, pure muscle and strength. Is it any wonder she constantly wants to be naked with him, to explore every inch of him?

"But I don't want to wait," she tells him, surprised by the throatiness of her own voice. She stands on tiptoes to whisper in his ear: "I just want to come."

Fitz's smile widens. "Oh, you will."

He sounds so sexy, his words vibrating deep in his chest, and she knows without doubt he'll deliver on his promise. In her current state, he probably won't even have to try very hard.

He tugs on her hand now, reminding her it's their turn to cross the road. At the other side he speeds up again, striding down the sidewalk with his long legs so she's almost jogging to keep up with him. She doesn't recognize their route and wonders if he is taking them a shorter way back after all; in fact, it's only about five minutes until they round a corner and she spots their hotel up ahead.

"That was quick," she remarks as they climb the front steps, trying to hide the fact she's a little out of breath.

"Sorry," he grins, finally slowing to a normal pace. "I know I was walking fast. But when you say dirty things, my mind just ends up on this single track..."

"Well, let's not stop now then." She pulls him towards the elevators, weaving around other guests, lobby furniture, bellhops with trolleys full of luggage. As they wait, she lets go of his hand and slips hers into the back pocket of his shorts, squeezing his amazingly firm ass.

"I'm so hot for you," she says softly, leaning her head against his shoulder and tilting her face up towards his. Fitz's expression is one of unmistakable lust, and even though she's speaking quietly enough that the people nearby can't hear her, they need only take one look at him and they'd know exactly what was going on.

Not that she minds in the slightest.

"I can't wait to feel your hands on my body," she continues. "I love your hands. And your mouth."

They step onto the elevator with four other guests and he pulls her close, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "I love your mouth too," he murmurs. "It's sweet and dirty... Delicious." He silently kisses his way towards her lips and when they touch, so lightly she barely feels it, Olivia's heart misses a beat. She meets his eyes, wondering if he's felt it too: the overwhelming intimacy of this moment; the sensation that the Earth has moved, that somehow their connection has just deepened even further.

And he can, she knows. He looks surprised, awestruck... and even more aroused. He looks like everything she's ever dreamed of and she wants him in every way, forever; she never wants to live a day without him.

When they arrive at their floor she takes his hand and leads him to their room, waiting for him to open the door before pulling him inside. "Kiss me," she starts to say, dropping her purse to the carpet, but he already is. He holds her tightly as he devours her, his arm locked around her waist. She can hear his impatience in the way he's breathing, can feel his erection rigid against her belly. His other hand rises to grip the back of her neck, fingers buried in her hair as his tongue sweeps into her mouth over and over, tasting every inch of her.

"Fitz," she gasps, desperately searching for air between his ravenous kisses. Her core is already pounding, soaking wet, as the cumulative effects of a morning with him hit her all at once. "I need... _Oh_..."

"What do you need, Livvie?" he asks, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment before covering her mouth with his again, denying her the chance to reply.

Olivia finds that her hands have worked their way beneath his shirt and she pushes it upwards, longing to finally be naked with him. She had every intention of taking her time this afternoon, of trying to memorize every part of him in fine detail, but now that they're here and he's Fitz and she's just _melting_ for him, her plans have gone flying out the window - and she's more than okay with that.

"I need _you_ ," she says as he pulls off his shirt, giving her a brief reprieve. Her gaze falls down his torso, all tanned muscles and fine brown hair, to the bulge tenting his shorts which causes a surge in the heat between her thighs. When she meets his eyes again he's watching her, breathing hard, waiting for her to continue. He's giving her power, which she's sure he doesn't often do in the bedroom. In fact, his dominant side is the greatest turn on. But maybe this can be too...

She hooks her finger beneath his waistband and leads him further into the room, pausing next to the bed. Then, aware of his heated gaze on her the whole time, she undoes his belt, button and zipper, sliding his shorts down so he can step out of them, along with his shoes. She briefly runs her palm over his cock, relishing the groan that emanates from deep in his throat.

"Sit down," she tells him, kicking off her sandals and then moving to stand between his legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. His hands immediately come to rest on the backs of her thighs, roaming over her skin. Olivia lifts her dress, determined not to let him distract her, and it joins his discarded clothes on the floor.

Fitz is looking up at her but now he's fighting to keep his eyes on her face, and it makes her smile. She takes off her bra at the same time she climbs onto his lap, her knees either side of his thighs, and she lowers her mouth to his straight away, unable to wait a second longer to kiss him again. Instantly she's whimpering as their tongues meet and she feels him gripping her waist, pulling her closer until her center comes into contact with his rock hard erection. The sensation is almost too much for her to take; her hips begin move of their own accord, grinding down onto him, making them both moan.

"Can you feel what you do to me?" he growls, rocking his pelvis against hers. He trails his lips down her throat to her breasts, drawing one nipple into the heat of his mouth followed closely by the other. She can't stop the noises that are leaving her now; can't stop her body from dissolving in his arms.

"God, your nipples are so sensitive."

" _Yes."_

It's all she can say, the only thing on her mind as pulses of electricity rush continuously from her chest straight to her core. He's right - her nipples are exquisitely sensitive, a direct line to every other erogenous zone she possesses. And in lavishing attention on them, he's stolen all her wits and put himself back in control. But who cares, really, when he's making her feel this good? She's close now, his mouth intensifying the throbbing where her clit is rubbing on his cock, her fingers gripping onto his hair for dear life.

Then suddenly he's lifting her, holding her tightly against him with one arm while he maneuvers his boxers off. He sits again, urging Olivia to stand and take off her thong. This time when she kneels over him, she slides straight down onto his erection, crying out as he fills her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," she breathes, pausing to let herself adjust to his size.

"Wrap your legs around me," Fitz instructs, his voice now so deep she can feel it vibrate through his body into hers. She unfolds her knees one by one, bending them around his hips instead. The action makes her sink further onto him and when their eyes meet, dark brown and stormy blue-gray, she knows they're sharing another memory of last night: of being completely exposed, in every possible way; of her coming at his word, the most incredible orgasm of her life. His fingertips run up and down her back, making her shiver, and hers dig into the muscles of his shoulders as she focuses on his beautiful face and the incredible feeling of their connection.

"Being inside you like this... It's like heaven," he murmurs, kissing her chin before claiming her mouth once more. Then he starts to move, holding her hips steady and thrusting up into her. It feels so fucking amazing that she has to tear her lips away and throw her head back, letting out a cry as he stretches her, as she feels herself become even wetter around him. She always used to think that the first few moments of deep penetration were uncomfortable, but she's so relaxed with Fitz that actually, all she feels is pleasure...

Pleasure so sweet, she realizes she's coming.

It's a different type of orgasm than any she's had before: short, intense, localized to her internal muscles. It's not the all-consuming type that happens when he plays with her clit, or at the end when they've both given everything they've got; instead it raises her arousal to new, dizzying heights, leaving her longing for more.

She's panting, her body shaking, and it takes a while to realize that Fitz has stopped moving.

"Did you just...?"

She nods, unable to stop a smile from curving her lips. "I think so."

He's staring at her with wonder in his eyes. "Livvie... you're amazing."

He starts to move again, his strokes slower now, and longer. She leans back, resting her palms on his knees, watching as his gaze wanders all the way down her front to the point at which they're joined. She can see that her orgasm has brought his forward, can feel the tension in his muscles.

"Fitz..." she warns, because he's not wearing a condom and he's getting carried away. In the past she would never have allowed a man to even enter her without protection - but, as with most things, Fitz is turning out to be the exception to the rule.

"I know," he sighs, and it looks like a lot of effort for him to still his movements, to meet her eyes again.

Olivia smiles at him as she sits forwards, extricating her legs so she can stand up. She tries to turn, to go pick up her purse, but his hands are covering her hips and the next thing she knows, his mouth has latched onto the apex of her thighs. Her sound of surprise instantly becomes a moan when she feels his wet tongue swirl over her clit, pleasure radiating outwards to her fingertips, her toes.

" _Oh my-"_

"Mmm."

The timbre of his voice against her most sensitive parts makes everything inside her tighten, makes her knees weak. Fitz squeezes her ass, drawing her even closer to his face, and she's not sure how much longer she's going to be able to stand. No doubt he can sense this because moments later he's pulling her back onto his lap and then rolling them over, until she's lying on the bed with her feet on the floor and he's kneeling between her legs, pushing them apart. Now that he has better access to her his mouth gets straight to work: her back arches off the bed as he licks her from bottom to top, a long, hard sweep of his tongue which ends with little laps over her clit, sending every nerve into overdrive.

" _Fffitz!"_

Before she can even draw breath he's traveling down again, plunging his tongue inside her, groaning with lust. The fact he makes his enjoyment of her so obvious is a huge turn on.

"I love your pussy," he growls, and it's a word she's never really liked but coming from him, right now, it's possibly the most erotic thing she's ever heard.

"I love that you do," she whimpers, crying out again when he bites on her inner thigh before returning his attention to her clit once more. Everything single part of her is aching for him and while she could come easily like this, and _soon_ , there's something she needs even more.

"Fuck me," she says, sitting up, pulling on his hair to halt his actions. When he looks up at her, his eyes burning with desire, his lips slick with her arousal, she loses what little patience she had left. " _Now_ , baby. Please."

His gaze falls to her mouth and then he's kissing her, his groan lost against her tongue as she licks at him, tasting herself all over him. Suddenly two of his fingers are inside her and she instinctively spreads her legs wider as her muscles clench around him, pushing her even further towards the edge.

"You are so fucking wet," Fitz utters between kisses, sliding his fingers in and out of her. "So ready for me."

"Yes. Always."

Olivia reaches down and wraps her hand around his cock, stroking him in the same rhythm. She loves the way he feels, his soft skin stretched over such hard flesh; loves the way he reacts to her, making noises in his throat, his breathing erratic. Most of all she loves learning him, letting him explore her. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of it; in fact, she knows she won't.

"Okay, sweet baby," he says now, stilling her hand and withdrawing from her as he sits back. "I'm gonna explode if you carry on."

"Now you know how I feel," she murmurs, watching him stand, and he gives her a wicked smile before going to retrieve her purse. He returns to the bed and offers it to her.

"Fitz, you can go in there." Her gaze travels over him - naked, erect and already covered in her fluid - and she can't help but giggle. "I think we've passed the point of formalities, don't you?"

He grins. "I was just being a gentleman."

"I don't want a gentleman right now." She takes the box of condoms from him and picks one out, opening the packet. She continues to speak as she slowly rolls it along his length: "I want a man who's going to fuck me harder than I've ever been fucked before." She kisses his hips, his lower abs, making him sigh as his head falls back. "I want you to make me come on your dick," she admits, and she's not used to talking dirty but he seems to have stolen every single one of her inhibitions.

"Jesus, Liv," he groans, flexing helplessly towards her.

She meets his heavy gaze for the last time, seeing what her words have done to him, before she turns around and kneels on the bed. He's behind her in an instant, the mattress dipping as he kneels too.

"You look so sexy from this angle," he says hoarsely, his fingertips gliding down her spine and over the curve of her bottom. "I want to finger you like this, to lick you out from behind. I will, one day soon. But I can't wait any longer."

Olivia trembles as she feels him pushing against her entrance; as his tip enters her and he pauses there, moving just millimeters back and forth, teasing her. She moans, trying to push back onto him, to take him deeper. Then his hands take hold of her hips and he's obviously reached his breaking point too because he suddenly slams into her, filling her to the hilt. He begins to thrust quickly, powerfully, and the way he's stretching her again brings another intense mini-orgasm, her incoherent sounds of pure bliss echoing around the room.

She feels his arm reach around her waist, drawing her upwards until she's kneeling with her back against his front. The angle this creates is nothing short of sensational as he continues to move inside of her. "Another?" he inquires next to her ear, and she's not sure whether he's referring to the climax she's just reached or the fact that there's more to come.

"Yes," she gasps, to both.

He's all over her now: his mouth on her neck, making her shiver; his right arm holding her tightly, hand gripping her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple; the fingers of his left hand dancing over her clit, drawing circles which are rapidly spiraling her towards the finish line. And she's _so_ ready to get there, after all this time. Every muscle is taut and she can barely breathe, completely enveloped by this incredible man. She wants to come so badly and at the same time, she never wants this absolute ecstasy to end.

"So close," she murmurs, looking over her shoulder, grazing her lips against his. She can taste the sweat on his skin, feel it all over his body as they move together. She has one hand in his hair while the other covers his on her chest, their fingers intertwined. They couldn't be closer if they tried.

"Me too," he grunts, his pace quickening. His cock is grazing her G spot with every single thrust and the pressure is building, heat spreading from her clit, fire igniting wherever they're touching. They're groaning in harmony, their kisses messy and tongue-filled, until Olivia has to tear her mouth away because she's about to... almost...

" _Fuuuck!_ Fitz, fuck, oh my _god!"_

She feels like she's being torn apart as convulsions so intense and so astoundingly sweet rip through her, and still the pleasure keeps coming as he continues to fuck her all the way through her peak and into his. He produces a long line of expletives, his hips jerking with his final few thrusts, his face pressed tightly against her neck as he joins her in heaven.

It's a while before they move again, before the aftershocks have finally settled. She falls forward onto her hands, the moist skin of her back instantly cooling as it's exposed to the air again. Fitz slowly pulls out and she collapses onto her front, sighing with immense satisfaction. She's aware of him standing, no doubt to remove the condom and briefly clean himself up, before he returns to lie down beside her again.

She opens one eye and sees his grinning face. "Hi," she manages to say, and even that takes everything out of her.

"Hi," he replies, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his fingertips caressing her shoulder blade. "Good?"

"Fucking amazing." She's so exhausted she can't keep her eyes open, even to see him laughing.

"I thought so too."

"Mm."

He seems very far away and she knows she shouldn't sleep now, in the middle of the afternoon, but she feels utterly boneless.

"I'm going to take the fact you're ignoring me as a compliment," Fitz says after a moment, his voice full of warmth.

"You should," she murmurs, managing to reach out her hand and lovingly stroke his abs. "Sex coma."

He laughs again, surprised. "What?"

"You've put me in a sex coma."

"I'm... sorry?"

"Don't be." She glances at him from beneath heavy eyelids. He looks so gorgeous, gazing at her with those blue eyes, affection written all over his face. He moves in to kiss her, tenderly brushing her lips with his.

"Sleep, sweet Livvie. I'll wake you in a little while."

"You don't mind?"

He shakes his head, smiling. "Not at all." He gets up, folding the covers over her.

"I'd do anything for you," he says softly, and they're the loveliest words to fall asleep to.

* * *

When she wakes from the most restful sleep, it's still light outside. She rolls over, rubbing her eyes, and spots Fitz sitting in an armchair by the window, typing quietly on his laptop.

"Hey," she says, stretching her aching muscles.

"Good afternoon," he grins, closing his computer and standing. "Or good evening, I should say."

He's fully dressed, his hair still a little damp from the shower, and when he sits beside her on the bed he smells incredible. He takes her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss against her skin.

"What time is it?"

"Ten to five."

Olivia feels instantly guilty. "Sorry I slept so long."

"That's okay." He pulls her onto his lap, cradling her close. "I showered, answered some work emails, called the divorce attorney."

"Oh yeah?" She leans her head against his shoulder, breathing him in.

"Yeah. I made an appointment for Friday after next. I'm going to fly back a week on Thursday, after I've visited friends in Oxford."

"You mentioned that. I'm sad we're not flying home together."

"Why?" He lifts her chin, making her look at him. "So we can join the mile high club?"

She laughs at his playfulness. "Yes. Because airplane toilets are _so_ sexy."

"I'd charter us a private plane."

Her laughter fades at the earnestness of his words, at the fact she knows he means it. "Do you ever not know what to say?" she wonders aloud, amazed by him.

"Only when I look at you," he admits without a hint of embarrassment, "And I try to describe how beautiful you are. There aren't words for that."

" _Fitz."_

Maybe it's because she's still a little sleepy, or maybe it's the mind-blowing sex, or perhaps it's just everything about him, but her eyes fill with tears. She kisses him, holding him close, until the wave of emotion has passed.

"I think you're beautiful too," she says, tracing over the lines of his face with her finger.

"Thank you," he says with a smile. "But I think I'd prefer something more like 'ruggedly handsome'."

"Well, tough."

They share a grin, drawn together into another series of sweet kisses.

"So, what do you want to do this evening?" Fitz asks when they finally part.

"Sightseeing," she replies in a cute voice, making him laugh.

"Are you sure? Because that went _so_ well this morning."

She nods, smiling. "I can't help the fact my tour guide is ridiculously attractive... and easily persuadable."

"Maybe you should get new tour guide," he suggests, unable to hide his joy at her words.

"I'll think about it."

"Okay." He rubs his nose against hers, then kisses her lips once more.

She thinks her heart might burst from happiness. "Okay."


	9. Does The Real World Still Exist?

**A/N:** A million thanks and so much love again to my reviewers, my readers. May be a while before the next update - my parents and (soon to be) parents-in-law are visiting from the UK for the next 6 weeks, so I won't have much time for writing. Stick with me though, we have a long way to go with these two yet!

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Does The Real World Still Exist?**

Late morning on Wednesday finds them in the Food Hall at Harrods, where they've just bought a selection of mini macaroons from the patisserie section and they're still there, eating them in the middle of the store. Fitz calls it decadent but Olivia thinks the only thing decadent is the way he kisses her afterwards, tasting the sweetness of her lips over and over until she's afraid her knees might give way beneath her.

They wander through Knightsbridge, stopping in various designer boutiques as they pass. "I'm running out of clothes," she says, defending herself against an accusation which never comes. "I only packed for a long weekend." But Fitz just smiles in that way of his, patient and adoring, and sits contentedly in each store, catching up with work emails on his phone. Olivia ends up buying more than she should simply because of the look on his face every time he sees her in a new outfit.

"I think I have an addiction," she confesses afterwards, refusing his offer to carry her bags.

"So do I," he echoes, pulling her close as they stroll along and pressing his lips to her temple, making her heart skip several beats. It's moments like these where she forgets they barely know each other; moments where they've been together for years, where he's the other half of her. And what a life that would be: to get to spend every day beside him; to live in this feeling he gives her, this feeling that she is more than herself - that she can do anything, _be_ anything with him on her side.

After everything Edison put her through - after she gave him her love and got nothing in return but false promises, and resentment, and (worst of all) _apathy_ \- the idea of a fulfilling, loving relationship where she can be her true self has been almost impossible for her to believe in. Until now; until Fitz. Because she already believes in him, in the power of _them_ , despite herself and her scars and the rational part of her brain which is telling her that she of all people should be taking extra care of her heart. The trouble is, he's just so easy to fall for, so easy to trust - she can't help herself.

And she doesn't want to.

They have their first falling out later that morning, by the gates of Buckingham Palace, and it's probably her own fault because she's let herself get too excited and once again forgotten that another woman across the world is still wearing his wedding ring. "If you become President one day, you'll go in there to meet the Queen," she muses, marveling at the building's architecture and grandeur, at the magnificence of the Queen's Guard stationed outside. "Or the King, I suppose."

An easy smile curves Fitz's lips, the same one which will make him such a great politician. "It's what my father always planned for me," he tells her. "I knew I was expected to follow him into politics and I never questioned that. At one point I did try and rebel by coming to study in London when I was twenty three... although 'study' is putting it loosely. Between the sports and the drinking and the endless parties, there wasn't much time for anything else. I crammed my entire year's work into the last six weeks."

"And did you come out with a good grade?" she asks, charmed by the image of this younger version of him.

He shrugs slightly, his smile becoming a grin. "Well, _I_ was pleased for the amount of effort I'd put it. My father, on the other hand, was not. So from then on it was Masters and PhD, during which time I fortunately managed to grow some balls and start to steer my life in the direction I wanted to go. He couldn't really be angry with me for getting involved in charity work with Unicef, for starting my own organization which would eventually become my business as well. It all looks good on the old CV, right?"

"Of course." They've started to walk along the gates, her arm linked through his. Olivia thinks she could listen to him talk all day: his deep voice is so mesmerizing, so sexy, and she loves learning more about him.

"Anyway," he goes on casually, "Dad continued to plot my future for me, introducing me to the right people at every opportunity. He even set me up with Mellie, the daughter of one of his pals in the NRA. You know, excellent breeding, old money. The perfect First Lady."

And suddenly, she freezes. Did he just...?

She feels his body tense as he realizes what he's said but she's too shocked to do anything other than take a step back from him, her gaze fixed on the ground.

"Wait," he says quickly, his tone full of panic as he gently takes hold of her upper arms. "Fuck, Liv. I'm so sorry. That's my father speaking, not me."

"Is it?" She glances up at him, seeing the horror in his eyes, and she knows it's genuine but damn, his words have stung her. "What about _my_ breeding?" she asks in a trembling voice. "How do I match up to perfect, rich Mellie Grant? I'm guessing she's also white, by the way, based on what you've just said."

Fitz briefly closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Please believe me, Olivia. That is _not_ the way I feel - that is my father's idea of a suitable wife for his only son. He's old-fashioned and outdated and the only things he cares about are power and influence. He's been sacrificing me, my dreams, my desires since the day I was born, all in his own interests. And yet somehow, at forty years old, I still have this desperate desire to impress him, to earn his praise."

And she can't help but empathize with that last line, because it's exactly the way she feels about her own father. She and Fitz have more in common than she could ever have imagined.

"I am _not_ my father," he continues, his voice harsh and determined, like he's reinforcing a message he's told himself a hundred times before but never quite accepted. "I would never judge anyone on anything other than their humanity. I don't care about who your parents are or the color of your skin. It hasn't even crossed my mind, apart from to acknowledge just how beautiful you are."

He's so honest, so heartfelt that she intuitively believes him before she's even processed it. And while she lets the world stabilize around her, lets herself be reassured that he _is_ a good man, that she was right to put her trust in him, she realizes he's just opened up yet another can of worms over whatever future they might have as a couple.

"Okay," she says, lifting her hand to his waist, visibly reconnecting with him. "Theoretically, let's say we do end up together. Say this is the real thing."

 _It is_ , her heart beats. _It is, it is._

"I can't see you winning many votes as a Republican with a black girlfriend."

"Then I won't run as a Republican."

She blinks, taken aback by the speed of his reply, by his matter-of-fact tone. "Fitz, your father-"

"Olivia, _I don't care_." When he draws her closer and smiles, she feels like she hasn't seen it for days and she can't help but mirror him. "I can see no reason on Earth why my success or failure as a politician, as a Senator, as a Presidential candidate would depend on the color of my wife's skin, our children's skin. In fact, there are a million ways it would make me a _better_ man."

She would love to dwell on his naïve sincerity, on how ridiculous and endearing it is, but her brain has gotten stuck on his other words. "Did you just say wife? And _children_?"

He grins at her. "I'm not waiting until I become President to marry you, nor to have the cutest babies with you."

Her eyes widen.

" _Theoretically_ , of course," he adds smoothly, but she knows he's deadly serious. Why does the thought of settling down and starting a family with a man she's known less than four days not freak her out? Why isn't she running for the hills? She should be doing both but looking into his bright blue eyes, so sure, so full of conviction, she finds she doesn't want to run away: she wants to stay; to take the chance that maybe he's the one she's going to grow old beside. Does it matter whether she goes all in now, or in three months' time, or six, or a year, when she already knows deep in her soul that he's it for her? Why hold back when diving in feels so good, so natural, so _right_?

"I believe you," Olivia says softly now, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. "I believe what you said earlier. I've never doubted you - I was just so shocked, I didn't know how to react."

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs in reply, slipping his arms around her. He nuzzles his nose against hers and she breathes him in, letting her mind and body calm.

"I hate that you're somebody else's," she confesses after a moment, her voice barely more than a whisper; "that you're not mine."

It's a true admission of weakness, of jealousy, but she wants him to see everything inside of her; she needs his unconditional acceptance, of her and all her flaws. Fitz lifts her chin so he can gaze down into her eyes and straight away she finds exactly what she's searching for.

"I hate it too," he says quietly, looking at her with so much longing. "I hate it more than you realize. I can't believe I wasted years of my life miserable, clinging onto a dead marriage, when you were out there the whole time."

"I'm here now," she says, pressing herself further into his body, her hands settling on his lower back. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

The smile that curves his lips is huge, showing off all his teeth. "And that's where you're going to stay," he teases before leaning down to capture her mouth in several slow, tender kisses. He might have continued things, right there outside one of London's greatest landmarks, if not for her phone starting to ring in her purse.

"Wait, does the real world still exist?" he jokes as she pulls it out, smiling at him before separating herself from his embrace to answer the call.

"Abby, hi."

"Hey stranger. How was the flight?"

"Um..." She gives Fitz an apologetic look before turning away - this is not going to be a conversation she wants to have in front of him.

"I'm on my way to work," her best friend is continuing, as usual not giving Olivia chance to speak - for which she is very grateful, this time. "My current caseload is kicking my ass. This week is already kicking my ass. I can't wait for Friday. I need several glasses of wine... Maybe even several bottles."

Shit. She'd completely forgotten they'd made plans together. "Abs, I'm afraid I'm going to kick your ass too."

"What?"

She glances back at Fitz, seeing him wandering over to admire the Victoria Memorial. He looks perfectly content, giving her a wave and that heart-fluttering smile. "I'm sorry. I... didn't fly home yesterday. I'm staying here in London until Sunday."

There's a brief pause on the end of the line. She can hear the cacophony of the New York commute in the background. "Who's the guy?" her friend asks eventually, as clever and as shrewd as ever. They've known each other eight years, since their very first day at Yale when they discovered they were roommates: more than enough time for Abby to know there are very few reasons Olivia Pope - the perennial planner, the control freak - would make such a rash decision as extending her vacation at the last minute.

"There's no guy," she tries, but Abby just laughs.

"Yeah, and I'm the best lawyer in this damn city. Now we're both liars."

"Abby..."

"Tell me everything Liv. Name, age, height, build, occupation, hobbies, financial status."

Olivia sighs. It feels weird talking about Fitz to someone outside of London, to acknowledge him and their crazy journey so far back in her New York life. It feels like it's becoming real and she wants that - she wants to try them out, to discover what kinds of adventures they can make out of everyday life together - but on their own terms, at their own pace. And, preferably, in secret until he's divorced.

She looks around again, making sure he's nowhere within earshot before she speaks. "You know me. I don't want to make a big deal about this. He's just someone I met at the conference on Saturday and we're... hanging out. It's fun."

"Mm hmm. Right. Hold on a second." She hears her friend ordering a coffee to go and has to try hard to stop her mind from picturing exactly what types of _fun_ she and Fitz have been indulging in. If only Abby knew...

"Just tell me he's a good guy, Liv; tell me he's treating you well. And, y'know, that he's super hot and great in bed too."

Olivia laughs but she's touched by her friend's concern. "Yes to all of the above. He's... something else."

The same words he used to describe her to Stephen, said in the same tone of wonder, of disbelief. Because she could use all the words she knows and they still wouldn't explain just how much Fitz already means to her.

"Abs, I have to go."

"Is he there?"

"Yeah. We're outside Buckingham Palace."

"Can I speak to him?"

"No!"

"Liv! Come on. What do you think I'm gonna say?"

"I can only imagine."

Her friend lets out a sigh. "You don't trust me, do you? I'm wounded."

"No you're not. You're fine."

"Well, I don't know how you can be so sure when you're all the way across the Atlantic. Wait," she adds suddenly, "He's not English, is he? Is he going to keep you there forever?"

Olivia laughs at her panicked tone. "No, he's from California but he lives in New York. He's one hundred percent All-American."

 _Oh yes he is._

"Ugh, I am so jealous of you right now. I want a guy who makes me sound all dreamy when I talk about him."

"I do not sound dreamy." But she does, and they both know it. "Anyway, I'm sorry about Friday. Let's do dinner next week - Tuesday?"

"Sounds good. You're buying."

"Okay." She smiles to herself, full of affection for her best friend. "Now go and kick this week's ass. You can do it."

"I hope so. Thanks Liv. Stay safe, try to do all the things I would do."

 _Oh, I already am_ , she thinks as she ends the call. _Including several things you wouldn't... like falling in love._

She finds Fitz on the steps of the Memorial and sits down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around her. "Hi."

"Hi."

God, she's missed his voice and it's only been five minutes. "Sorry about that."

"No problem. How is Abby?"

Olivia looks up at him, amazed that he's asking. "She's fine, thanks. We were supposed to be going out this weekend but I had to let her down."

He frowns. "I'm sorry."

"What for? It's my fault, I'd forgotten we'd made plans. She doesn't mind. She's making me take her out to dinner next week to apologize."

Fitz smiles and leans in to kiss her. "Okay. Where do you wanna go next?"

"I don't mind. You pick." He considers her for a moment and she knows exactly what he's thinking. " _Not_ the hotel, Fitz."

His grin is unashamed. "Damn."

"Come on, tour guide. You can do better than that."

"Mm." He dips his head so his breath caresses her neck. "Nothing's better than that."

He presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below her ear and she feels a shiver run all the way through her. "Fitz..."

"Yes?"

She kisses the cheeky look off his face, teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue but drawing away as soon as he tries to deepen things. When he opens his eyes again they're hazy with desire. "You're a cruel woman, Livvie."

"I'm not, I'm just practicing the art of self-discipline. Yesterday I didn't do so well. Today is my day."

They smile at one another. "We'll see about that," he murmurs, kissing her before standing up and holding out his hands towards her. "Are you up for a walk?"

"Definitely." She lets him pull her to her feet.

"Okay. Now give me your shopping bags."

"Fitz, I don't mind."

"I know, but I want to carry them for you. Chivalry isn't completely dead, Miss Pope."

She hands them to him and he mimes tipping his hat to her, then offers his arm which she takes with a giggle. "Why thank you, Dr Grant."

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

* * *

They walk all the way along The Mall to Trafalgar Square and then further, to Leicester Square via Piccadilly Circus, enjoying another day of sightseeing beneath beautiful sunshine. Fitz tells her more about his earliest charity work in Ecuador and Colombia, where he first went with Unicef straight out of university to help build schools. His first trip was scheduled for two months but he ended up staying for four, setting up the project which has evolved into his multinational business.

"It all started with Daniela," he says as they stroll along. "She was one of the pupils at the new school we built in Cauca, Colombia. She was fifteen and I knew straight away she was smart - very inquisitive, always asking thoughtful questions in the classes I observed. She had this beautiful rag doll which she always carried and she told me she'd made it by hand, along with her mother and two younger sisters. Her father and older brother were both in prison for getting involved with a drug cartel so the girls made and sold these dolls to earn a living.

"Well, it was so rural, you can imagine they didn't sell many. I was heading back to the city and I took five dolls to one of the tourist shops, eventually persuading the owner to display them. To cut a long story short, they sold for much more than Daniela's family could make alone, and that was the start of my first project.

"I began to travel the neighboring districts, searching out local women and children who made traditional wares - jewelry, clothes, pottery. Then I partnered them with businesses in bigger towns, acting as their advocate, their manager: negotiating contracts, prices, supply and demand. Very few people had cars in the villages so I'd do these big rounds every week, driving through to pick up all these gorgeous products and delivering them to the stores. And then I'd drive the same journey in reverse, handing out the profits. Those were my favorite days."

"That sounds incredible," Olivia admits, fascinated by his stories, by the experiences he's had which she's only dreamed of. She's read some of his papers about social infrastructure, about barriers to women's rights in these countries and what he thinks needs to be done to overcome them, but hearing him talk so passionately about his work is something else.

"It was great," he grins. "I had to come back to the US every few months because of my visa but I would have stayed there permanently if I could. I saw Daniela every few weeks and she started to come into the city with me, listening to my negotiations with new partners. My father was putting pressure on me to move back home, to settle down, and I suddenly found myself wondering why I was still playing this role - why not local people, bright young students like Daniela?

"So she became my first apprentice, and she was a natural. I still traveled a lot but in every area I had projects in I employed someone young, someone interested in business, to run things for me - particularly young women, wherever I could. And they've been amazing - the whole experience has: seeing families and communities lifted from the depths of poverty; seeing my students, my friends getting an opportunity to make something of themselves in two countries where that is not an easy feat."

"How do things work now?" Olivia asks, gazing up at him in awe. "Don't you partner large US companies as well?"

He smiles. "You've done your homework on me, haven't you? Well, over the last ten years things have grown exponentially. I worked for the UN for a short while but I couldn't keep up with both, so I opened an office in New York and dedicated myself to furthering the good work we'd already done. With Daniela's help, and Luisa and Carolina and all the others, we started an internship program for young women to actually go and work with these larger businesses in local cities. And then I began to contact companies in New York, to partner them with my tradeswomen in their rural villages. And once we were set up in the city we began to expand nationally as well, which led to an internship program for women from rural South American communities to come and work in the US, to gain experience with some of our most successful businesses."

Olivia is stunned. "That's _your_ project? The G.A. Initiative?"

"Yes."

"I had no idea." They've paused now, on a quiet street lined with cafés and bookshops somewhere by Leicester Square, and they instinctively turn to face one another. "What does it stand for?"

"Nothing officially. But it means Grant Attaway - my mother's maiden name. She died when I was seventeen but not before introducing me to the harsh realities of women's rights in the developing world, and closer to home. She worked for the UN too when she was in her twenties, before she married my dad, and she used to tell me all sorts of stories of things she'd seen, of injustices we would never have to face. A strange lesson for a teenage boy, I guess, but one which has haunted and inspired me ever since."

"Your mother sounds extraordinary," she says softly, thinking of her own mom, of losing her at a young age as well. "I'm sorry she hasn't seen you grow up, seen all of the amazing things you've done."

He takes hold of her hand and squeezes it, his smile lighting up his eyes. "She was the most generous woman I've ever known. If I can be half the person she was, I'm doing alright. But to this day I still haven't figured out how the hell she ended up with someone like my father."

Olivia can't help but smile back at him. "Love works in mysterious ways."

They're moving closer together, drawn by something beyond them. "So it does," he remarks, and she can't look away; can't close her eyes until the split second before their lips meet, can't ignore the pounding of her heart. His arm slides around her waist and she feels suddenly emotional, tears stinging beneath her eyelids as she clings to him.

"I lost my mom too," she says as soon as they break apart, her voice tight because sometimes it still hurts so much she can't breathe. Hearing Fitz talk about his mother has given her the overwhelming need to share her pain because she doesn't know anyone else who can understand - all her friends are more blessed than they appreciate with two healthy, living parents.

"I know we weren't talking about me," she goes on, already seeing so much compassion fill gaze, "but I also know what it feels like to go through that, to grow up with a father who is... different, now. Distant. Harder to love."

"I'm so sorry Livvie."

"So am I."

He lets her shopping bags drop to the floor and cups her face in his palms, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Oh god," he sighs, pulling her into a hug. "You were so young."

Olivia buries her face in his chest and focuses on breathing deeply, on regaining control of herself. This is not the time or the place to fall apart, although she feels so comfortable with Fitz she knows he wouldn't mind if she did.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "I'm fine."

He moves back to look at her again. "I know. But it's okay not to be fine, sometimes. You're still beautiful even when you cry."

He kisses her forehead, her nose, her mouth and she closes her eyes again, focusing on how it feels to be supported by someone so unselfishly and unconditionally. She's never had that before - in almost two years with Edison she didn't once cry about her mom in front of him because it wouldn't have felt right, and he certainly wouldn't have known how to react, how to comfort her. Looking back now, after Fitz, she's beginning to wonder why she ever stayed with him so long.

"Thank you," she says at length, gazing up at his impossibly handsome face. "I don't know what came over me."

"I'm afraid that doesn't stop," he replies solemnly. "It still surprises me sometimes, straight out of the blue. I can't believe we've both been through it."

"It's crazy, isn't it?"

He smiles. "Crazy is one word for it. Right, I think we both need cheering up. Let's go get some lunch and then I'm treating you to the biggest ice cream you can imagine."

"That's an offer I would _never_ refuse. I'm an ice cream-aholic."

"I'll add it to the ever-growing list of things we have in common."

* * *

Olivia's phone rings again five minutes later and this time it's Quinn, her assistant, telling her about some urgent edits that are needed on an article she's been writing for the domestic violence charity she supports. "Seriously? I thought it was supposed to go to print yesterday."

"Yeah, sorry Liv. They said their Editor in Chief has come back from vacation and wants a few changes made."

She sighs, glancing at Fitz who is looking curious. "Did you tell them _I'm_ on vacation?"

"I did, but he was pretty insistent that it's done asap. They've emailed you their suggestions and I've also sent you the number of the guy who called me."

"Fine, I'll do it today. Thanks Quinn. Everything else okay?"

"Yep. Your dress for Monday night arrived at the office this morning - it's stunning. How's London?"

Olivia squeezes Fitz's hand as he leads her through the crowds. "It's amazing." Their eyes meet and they both smile.

"Do I get to find out why I had to rebook your flights at such late notice?"

"Maybe."

Unlike Abby, Quinn doesn't know her well enough to voice her suspicions. "Okay, well have a great time Liv. See you Monday."

"Can we detour back to the hotel?" Olivia asks after she's hung up. "I need to pick up my laptop so I can quickly edit an article - hopefully it won't take long. Maybe we could find a café and I can do it over lunch?"

"Sure. We're not far from the hotel, actually."

Back in their room he takes the computer from her and sets it down on the desk. "Fitz..."

"Just one minute," he says in that deep, seductive voice, his hands settling on her hips, and how can she possibly refuse? His kisses start out innocent enough but soon one minute becomes several, and then their clothes are falling to the floor and they're ripping open a condom and he's holding her against the wall as he fills her over and over again, everything so hard and tight, so frantic and desperate.

"Sweet baby," he growls, biting on her neck as she tips her head back, her uncontainable moans rising to collect in the corners of the ceiling. She's so close already, her whole body on fire, and she's never come before in this position without someone's fingers on her clit but Fitz makes her so hot he's going to be her first - there's no question.

"Fuck," she whimpers, pulling his hair to guide his mouth back to hers, welcoming the wet heat of his tongue sliding against hers. Her hips are grinding in their own rhythm, separate to his quick thrusts, and the combination is proving too much. She can feel his fingers gripping her thighs, her ass with enough pressure to bruise and the thought of him marking her, and of how much he wants her, finally takes her over the edge.

She writhes in his arms as she comes, losing all control over her body as she succumbs to the absolute bliss he's conjured from her so effortlessly. Her head falls back against the wall as she slowly calms and she holds him close as he approaches his own end, every push of his hips sending aftershocks of electricity fizzing along her limbs.

"Oh, Livvie," he groans as he hits his peak, his face buried in the side of her neck. His final movements are erratic but his grip on her never wavers and she slides her hands over his arms, feeling the strength of his biceps which are holding her off the ground. He lifts his head to look at her, his breathing rate rapid, a sheen of exertion covering his skin. " _Baby_. That was incredible."

"I know."

Their lips meet, softer than before. "So much for 'one minute'," she murmurs, making him laugh as he slips out of her and lowers her legs to the floor.

"One minute won't ever be enough of you," he says simply, kissing her a final time before he heads into the bathroom, leaving her speechless at his words. How does he keep doing this, time and time again? He could write poetry books, wedding vows, Hollywood endings. There is so much soul inside of him, so much love waiting to be given, and she feels so unbelievably lucky that they've found each other; that he's sharing himself with her.

And even more than that, she cannot believe just how good it feels to be able to share herself with him.

* * *

"Fitz, stop staring at me."

She's working on her laptop, sitting opposite him in a little café just down the street from their hotel, while he's on the phone to his second-in-command Cyrus. For the last fifteen minutes his eyes haven't left her face.

"What?" Fitz mouths, looking amused. "I can't hear you."

His conversation continues smoothly, something about stocks and figures in the millions of dollars. She knew his business was big, but she hadn't quite realized just how big.

" _Stop staring at me_ ," she says again, knowing full well he heard her the first time. He just grins, and damnit why is he so attractive even when he's annoying?

Olivia takes a pen from her purse and writes the same words on the back of their bill, passing it to him. She watches as he reads it, still talking into his phone, and then his smile widens before he scrunches it up and throws it onto the floor. "No."

Her mouth opens in shock which just makes him laugh. "Sorry, Cy. I am still listening, go on."

She decides to ignore him, just as he's ignoring her requests, but his gaze remains fixed on her as she types away, making her skin burn and her head fuzzy. This is no use - she's creating more errors on the page than she's fixing. It feels like forever until he _f_ _inally_ finishes his call.

"Fitz, you're so distracting!" she cries out, throwing her hands up in the air. " _Please_ stop staring at me."

"I can't. You're so beautiful."

"Fitz!"

"What?" He looks so totally innocent and sweet that an incredulous laugh escapes her. Is he for real?

"You're so ridiculous."

She picks up her purse and laptop and moves to the next table. He follows her like a puppy.

"Go away."

"No."

"The quicker I finish this, the quicker you can have my attention again."

He considers her. "I hadn't thought of that. You're so smart, Livvie."

"I know. Now can you find something else to do, or leave me alone for thirty minutes? Please, Fitzy."

He moves her laptop to the side and leans over to kiss her. "Sorry. I'm just playing. I do actually have something I want to do, it won't take long. Try not to miss me too much."

Olivia smiles at him, tenderly running her fingertips over his cheek. "I will."

He stands, tucking his phone into the pocket of his shorts. "You'll miss me or you'll try not to?"

She can't help but grin. "Both."

* * *

He presents her with tickets for the Royal Opera House that evening, acquired on his quick trip to Covent Garden earlier. "They're not the best seats in the world but La Traviata is one of my favorites."

"You like opera?"

"Yes, and theater. I haven't been to either for years, though. I keep meaning to and never getting around to it. The Opera House is a stunning venue - you'll love it."

"I can't wait," she tells him, and means it.

They eat in a busy Italian restaurant opposite, the small tables crammed with people like them, dressed for an evening of sophisticated entertainment. Olivia is wearing one of the items she bought that morning: a knee-length, black dress with a bold floral print in purples, blues and greens, its neckline plunging, its straps thin and arranged in a complex pattern across her upper back. It's totally unforgiving and makes her feel so sexy, especially after seeing the expression on Fitz's face when she was finally ready to leave the hotel.

He looks amazing as always in his black suit and a white shirt, his hair sitting in perfect chestnut waves. There's a hint of pink on his forehead, his nose, and she touches his soft skin with her fingers.

"You look sun-kissed," she remarks as they cross the cobbled square, and he surprises her by leaning down to press his lips to hers.

"You look kissed," he says playfully, his blue eyes alight with humor and affection, and he's so cute that she pulls him back to her by the lapels of his jacket, kissing him again until she's dizzy from lack of oxygen.

The opera is enthralling, the building as exquisite as Fitz promised, but she still allows him to distract her every so often with kisses behind her ear or his hand slipping under her skirt, stroking the skin high on her thighs. By the end of the performance she's filled with so many emotions: awe and sadness for the show, burning desire for the man beside her. There's something about touching each other in the dark, surrounded by hundreds of other people, which makes her want him even more than usual.

He peels off her dress as soon as they're back in their room again, his big hands caressing every inch, every curve, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His mouth follows the same path and she feels like a trophy, like his most prized possession: the most beautiful thing in his world.

He settles between her legs, both of them naked by now and sprawled on the bed, and his tongue takes her to places she's never been before, places she hasn't even dreamed of. He's slow, deliberate, agonizingly thorough. He writes his name on her, spelling out his full title: twenty nine letters of heaven and she's coming before the end, neither knowing nor caring whether he's the third Fitzgerald Thomas Grant or the tenth, only that he's _hers_.

She lies beneath him when he makes love to her, letting her body rise and fall with his, sharing his kisses and his air. They're more intertwined than they've ever been, at the end: his arm under the bend of her knee, her other leg around his hips; her fingers in his hair, his holding onto her jaw, keeping her still so he can see the second she breaks, so he can fall alongside her. He's everywhere and everything at that moment, enveloping her completely in the heat of his body, holding her close as she loses touch with the world for several long, breathtaking minutes.

And she's never felt so at home.

They're lying in bed a little while later, still wrapped around each other beneath the covers. Olivia can feel all the hard lines of his body and the softer, forgiving parts too, now that he's relaxed - and she wants it all.

"Thank you for everything today," she says quietly, gazing into his eyes, their noses almost touching. "It was the best day ever."

Because despite their altercation and her tears over her mom, she feels nothing but absolute contentment right now. They have come out stronger, together, on the other side.

"You are more than welcome."

Their kisses are tender now but no less passionate; there's still something simmering just beneath the surface, always ready to be roused. She caresses his neck, his back and his hands do the same, giving her more comfort than any man has ever managed before.

"It's supposed to rain tomorrow," Fitz murmurs at length, rubbing his nose against her cheek, intermittently pressing kisses to her skin. "I vote we stay right here, all day long. We can order room service, watch movies... be naked together."

"I'm glad you said that last part," she replies sleepily, letting him take complete control of her mind and body with his loving touches. "I'm not interested if we're not gonna be naked."

He smiles but it's solemn, serious. "Earlier today you said you hate the fact I belong to someone else." His fingertips gently brush her hair away from her face and he's looking at her with so many emotions she can't even begin to name them.

"I don't, Livvie. Not any more. I only belong to you."

And she has to kiss him again to stop herself from speaking because once she's said the words that are filling her mind right now, they'll be in all kinds of trouble.


	10. Will We Have An Extraordinary Life?

**I am so sorry for the long wait. I'm so grateful for all of you who said you would be sticking around - I hope you're still out there! I have loved every single review, every comment on Twitter and Tumblr - thank you, thank you, thank you. And whoever reviewed today - you got your wish! Thanks for spurring me on.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten - Will We Have An Extraordinary Life?**

They're doing it again: sex without protection. Because their first shared shower was really only ever going to end one way, wasn't it?

It began with kisses beneath the spray, with giggles and Fitz humming against her lips in that way which she already knows means he's happy - really, truly happy. After a lazy morning in bed - after he woke her by kissing his way up her thighs; after she rode him with their fingers curled together, with her nose almost touching his, gazing into his eyes right until the very end; after they fed each other French toast and got all sticky with strawberries and cream - how could he not be happy?

She knows she is. She knows what happy actually means, now.

She also knows he was _trying_ to be good, at the start. He turned her around and began with her shoulders, lovingly washing his way along her arms, but barely a minute later his attention had already wandered - straight to her chest. And then came the kind of soapy, slippery massage she's had wet dreams about through all the times she's been alone: big hands kneading the soft, aching flesh of her boobs; long fingers coaxing her nipples into stiff peaks, soaking her more thoroughly than the cascading water ever could.

"Oh, Livvie."

His bone-shaking baritone and then a hiss from them both as she ground back helplessly against his already-impressive erection. His teeth sunk into the side of her neck before he licked his way around her ear, his breathing heavy; nose pressed into her newly sprung curls.

"I want you again already. It's... unbelievable."

His left hand slipped between her legs, sliding easily through her folds, dancing over her clit, and the only thing unbelievable to Olivia was that anything on _Earth_ could feel this good. She let him play with her a while longer, utterly powerless to resist the astounding talents of this man, until he told her she was ready to be fucked and she absolutely had to agree.

" _Fitz,"_ she warns now, breathless, with her arms braced against the wall as he pounds into her from behind. His pace is rapidly quickening because his knees are bent to accommodate their height difference and she knows there's a burn in his thighs.

"I'll come outside," he murmurs, his rhythm strict and exquisite. "You feel amazing, baby. I can't stop."

And she doesn't want him to, not really, because her orgasm is building and right now it seems a risk worth taking. _Everything_ with Fitz is a risk worth taking. She doesn't recognize the person she's become since meeting him but she already likes this new Olivia much more than the old one.

"Don't," she gasps, granting him permission. "Don't stop. This is... so good, Fitzy."

His fingers return to her clit, pressing deliciously hard, and she's so fucking hot for him after their soapy foreplay and the way he feels inside of her that she's coming in no time at all, her cries loud enough to drown out the sound of the shower. She's vaguely aware of Fitz pulling out, of his knuckles brushing against her lower back as the hand that got her off now does the same for him, and it's just seconds before his groans of ecstasy harmonize with hers.

" _Baby."_

She's still bent forwards, trying to catch her breath, savoring the last of her orgasm before it finally dissipates, but his _voice..._ The endearment in that one word makes her stand and turn around to face him, and sure enough his adoration for her is all over his face too. How did she _ever_ live without him?

She can't help but smile; can't help but kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her wet, warm and thoroughly sated body rise into his - a perfect fit. He holds her close, stepping them beneath the water again to wash her clean, his lips caressing hers in a series of the sweetest kisses.

"Mmm," he sighs eventually, gazing down at her with those brilliant blue eyes, with an equally brilliant smile. "How did I ever live without you?"

And it's not just that she doesn't answer because she's so surprised they've had the same thought; it's also that she doesn't how to. What can she say? He _has_ lived without her for forty years, and she's been fine for almost the last twenty seven. But they can no longer settle for 'fine' - that's clear, now. They can no longer live without feeling _alive_.

"Are we going to have an extraordinary life together?" she asks quietly, searching his face, and she's never needed anything more than to hear his reply because suddenly it isn't about London, about dates and great sex and navigating their fledgling relationship - suddenly it's about _forever_.

He looks at her for a long moment, a hint of a frown lining his forehead. "Why are you even asking that, Olivia?" His fingertips gently trace the curves of her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her lips and she wants to close her eyes and melt into his tenderness but he looks so serious that she can't.

"Of course we're going to have an extraordinary life. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone else, in every possible way. I want to talk to you all day long, to find out everything there is to know about you. I want to introduce you to my friends and be the proudest man in every room. I want us to travel together, to have amazing adventures... To spend every Sunday lazing in bed without a care in the world."

His story is so vivid, so believable that it feels like he's reading their future to her; like it's already set in stone. "I want to marry you," he says simply, and that's the second time in two days and it's still not scaring her like it should. "I want to have babies with you, to raise a family; to move to the country and grow old together. I can already see us in our farmhouse kitchen: me, reading the paper and watching you make jam, with the sunlight streaming in through big, open windows and the sounds of birds outside."

"Are we going to live in a Disney movie? In the 1950s?"

Fitz grins. "No, we'll be very much alive. And I was thinking maybe Vermont. I could be the Mayor of a small town..."

"After you've been President of the United States?"

He considers her, amused. "Well, maybe not. But you can still make jam."

"I can't cook."

"You can learn."

Olivia sighs, rolling her eyes. She's not being purposefully snarky; it's just a reflex defense mechanism to try and hold back the rising tide of joy within her body because once she surrenders to it, she'll be giddy for days. "You're ridiculous," she says, and she's trying to keep her lips tightly pressed together to stop them from curving but she thinks she might already be failing.

"Maybe." Fitz is staring at her, clearly both intrigued by her behavior and a little nervous to hear her reaction. "Livvie... you haven't told me what you actually think."

And he's so sweet, so handsome and perfect and _hers_ that the damn finally bursts. "I think _yes_ ," she says, her face breaking into a huge smile; heart pounding as she throws her arms around him again. "That does sound like an extraordinary life."

Fitz kisses the top of her head, squeezing her tightly. "For a second there I thought I was freaking you out again."

She looks up at him, biting her lip. "You should be. In fact I don't know why you're not. Who actually makes these kinds of plans after knowing someone less than a week?"

"People who _know_."

He leans in to kiss her but she turns away slightly, her mouth landing next to his ear instead. "People who are _crazy_ ," she whispers exaggeratedly, and his laughter makes her giggle too.

"So? We'll be the crazy couple with the whirlwind romance, who everyone pretends to doubt but in reality they're just dying with jealousy because we're so unbelievably happy."

He kisses her forehead as she sighs and lets herself bask in his vision, warming her all the way to her toes. "Now," he goes on after a moment, "Turn around, baby. I really want to wash your hair."

The massage he gives her is something close to heaven. He's so gentle, never catching or pulling as his fingers work some kind of magic on her scalp. "I love your curls. They're beautiful."

"Thank you."

He spins her to face him again and they share a smile. "You're beautiful," he says solemnly, and she feels it. Instinctively she rises onto her tiptoes to meet him halfway for a kiss, letting her mouth move languidly with his, playfully dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. She could get used to mornings like these and at the same time, she knows she'll never tire of them.

"Your turn," she says at length, taking his shampoo and squirting some onto her palm. Fitz leans forwards and she tangles her fingers in his deliciously soft curls, lathering them up until he's practically moaning with pleasure.

"I'd forgotten how much I love someone playing with my hair, rubbing my head," he says as they take turns to rinse under the spray. "It's been such a long time, but that felt incredible."

Olivia finds herself wondering when he last felt loved; when he was last treated to the intimacy and affection he so obviously craves. She's been trying to paint a picture of his wife in her mind, of a woman who could be so careless as to fall out of love with such a man, but she's just impossible to imagine - and that's probably for the best, right now.

"Can I ask a question?"

Fitz is washing his upper body and she misses the way he frowns because she's momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his hands moving over the muscles of his chest and abdomen. "Of course. You can ask me anything."

She shakes her head slightly to clear it. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Now I'm definitely intrigued," he smiles. "Go on."

She starts to apply conditioner, using the movement as a distraction to make her next words sound a lot more casual than they are. "When was the last time you had sex? Before this weekend, I mean."

He doesn't hesitate, and if he's confused by why she's asking he doesn't let it show. "I honestly don't know. Maybe around Christmastime, because we were drunk and we thought we should? Or it might have even before that."

Olivia isn't sure what she was expecting to hear, nor where she's even going with this. But she wants to know him, to understand where he's come from, and she tells him this.

"It's okay, Liv. I don't mind. I said I'd always be honest with you and there's nothing to hide. Mellie and I never had this kind of relationship; this insane, effortless chemistry." He gestures between them, letting the hot water rinse the soap from his body. "I told you it was arranged by our parents - that doesn't lend itself to grand romances, and you and she are very different people. We had to work hard, to mold ourselves into the people we thought we should be for each other. I'm starting to think I've been playing a character for the last twelve years and I'm only just remembering who the real me is."

"And who's that?" she asks shyly, because she's sure it wasn't his intention but his words are insanely flattering.

He grins. "A hopeless romantic; a love-struck, ideological optimist who naively but proudly walks around with his heart on his sleeve."

He switches off the shower and takes her in his arms again. "I'm _your_ hopeless romantic, if you'll have me."

"I'll think about it," she teases, reaching up to kiss him in a way which definitely confirms she accepts his offer.

They dry off with plush white towels and it's almost midday by the time Olivia climbs back into bed with him after fixing and braiding her hair. She's put on her pajamas again, pearl satin shorts and a matching camisole, and the very first thing Fitz does when he pulls her onto his lap is notice that she's wearing a bra.

"Livvie," he admonishes, sliding his hands beneath the soft material and over the skin of her back. "There's a no-bra rule on rainy days in bed. On any days in bed, as a matter of fact."

His touch makes her shiver and he's turning her on yet _again_. She's just insatiable around him - it's almost embarrassing, and no good for his ego. And even though she wants to tell him not to, she just sits there powerlessly as he undoes the clasp and slides the straps down her bare arms, removing the offending item and tossing it to the floor. Then his hands settle around her rib cage and his thumbs brush over her already-sensitive nipples, making her tilt her head back and moan. How does he make her so wet with just the slightest touch, the gentlest caress?

"Sweet baby," he murmurs, and she feels his lips on her breastbone before he's sucking her left nipple into the heat of his mouth. His erection is rising between her thighs and she intuitively begins to move her hips, letting the sweetest pleasure flood her at the friction she's creating. Her fingers delve into his damp hair and she holds his head to her chest as he begins to graze his teeth over her, licking at her with his tongue through the material of her top, driving her right to the brink.

And then... he stops.

"Fitz," she gasps, and she's shocked to see how thoroughly pleased with himself he looks. This is the first time he's denied her, the first time he's withdrawn, and it's possibly the most frustrated she has ever felt.

"Calm down, gorgeous. There's no rush." He's still smiling wickedly as he lifts her off his lap and onto the mattress beside him. "We have all day to play, to tease each other..."

She blinks, her blood still rushing wildly around her body. "You're cruel."

"I know. But it will be worth it, in the end. I promise."

He flicks on the TV, contentedly ignoring the way she's glaring at him. "I think we should watch a movie. Is it too early for Champagne?"

He's on the phone to room service before she's even had chance to speak. Sensing she's not going to change his mind just yet, she decides to join in with his game - and win.

She lets him choose the film - _Kingsman_ , a fittingly English comedy about spies disguised as gentlemen - and sits patiently beside him for the first ten minutes until there's a knock at the door. "I'll get it," she says sweetly, mindful of the fact she's scantily dressed and the damp white satin does little to disguise the dark chocolate of her nipples, something she knows Fitz is very aware of too.

"Thank you so much," she says to the butler, allowing him to wheel the Champagne cooler into the room. Her tone is far more flirtatious than it should be but there's fire in Fitz's gaze and she knows he's both annoyed and aroused - a very heady combination.

As soon as they're alone again she pops the cork, pouring two glasses and handing one to him. She straddles his lap again and offers a toast. "To being a _horrible_ tease."

Only she doesn't take a drink; instead she dips her finger into the icy liquid and trails it down her chest, circling around her breast. Fitz inhales, his gaze fixed on her movements, and she repeats the action on the other side, this time sliding over her nipple. It hardens immediately and she bites back a moan, feeling electricity surge through her body.

"You are so sexy," he groans, his free hand sliding up and down her thigh.

"I know," she breathes, continuing to touch herself, to wet her camisole with Champagne and revel in the sensation of such coldness against her heated skin. It's so hot, watching him watch her with such unadulterated lust on his face, and now it's no longer about the game - she's forgotten they were even playing.

She swallows the last of her bubbles and leans across to place their glasses on the bedside table. Fitz's hands immediately encircle her waist and his mouth covers her right breast again, holding her in place while he makes her writhe and cry out his name. She's circling her hips now, grinding her clit against his rock-hard cock, his grunts of pleasure spurring her on.

"Are you gonna come for me?" he asks, his lips and teeth trailing briefly along her throat before returning to her chest.

" _Yes."_

And she is, dry-humping him. With all the tricks at their disposal, all the positions in the world and their astounding ability to press each other's sexual buttons, she's going to finish like a teenager at the end of a very heavy make-out session.

And fuck, it feels _so damn good_ when she does.

She falls forwards into him, panting like she's run a marathon. Everything is throbbing and Fitz flexes his hips every so often, sending little aftershocks straight through her.

"Oh my _god_."

"Mmm." He nudges her face with his nose until he can kiss her. "Who's the tease now?"

"Me," she giggles, wondering if the Champagne has already gone to her head. She slips her hand into his boxers and begins to stroke him up and down, relishing the way his eyes fall closed and his lips part. She kisses her way down his torso, nipping his skin every so often, until he's helping her pull off his underwear and she's reaching over to the cool bucket for an ice cube.

"Liv..." he warns, intently following her every move, completely bare and at her mercy. He is such a beautiful man - she could stare at him forever.

"Ssh." She sucks on the ice cube and then takes him in her mouth, her cold tongue encircling his burning hot flesh. His pelvis rises off the bed and she moves with him, hearing his expletives fill the air. She cools her mouth several times with the ice and each time she returns to him, he swears again and his grip tightens on the sheets.

"Are you gonna come for me?" she asks, echoing his earlier words as she sits up to watch him, her hand continuing to work him up and down at a rapid pace.

"Fuck yes."

Their eyes meet and she grins when she sees how far gone he is. "Good. I love having you in my mouth."

She bends forward again, drawing him between her lips, using her tongue and her hand to take him right to the brink and then... with a shout and some uncontrollable bucking of his hips, he falls over the cliff.

He's momentarily silent, breathing hard, as she swallows and then takes a drink straight from the bottle. When she turns back she finds Fitz is looking at her, grinning. "This is the height of decadence," he says, amused. "Blowjobs washed down with Champagne."

She laughs, passing him a tissue from the nightstand. "Sorry it's only two-ply," she jokes, kissing him before they head to the bathroom to clean up.

It's quite a while later, after the movie and the Champagne are finished and they're still snuggled up together beneath the covers, watching the rain beat relentlessly against the window, when Olivia remembers something he said in the shower earlier.

"Fitz?"

"Yes?"

She wriggles around until she's facing him. "Why Vermont, specifically?"

"I really like apples."

He sounds so casual, so nonchalant that she rolls onto her back and laughs until she's aching, wiping tears from her eyes. "Fitz! Seriously?"

His boyish grin is just everything. "I am serious. And I was serious about the jam too - it's my favorite food. You'd better learn to make it quick."

"There's about as much chance of that happening as me running for President in the next election."

"So about fifty-fifty then?"

He's so cute, smirking at her, that she pulls him on top of her and kisses him. His weight makes her feel so safe, so secure, and they stay there awhile, making out between whispers and quiet laughter.

"Two days left," she says as they sky is beginning to darken.

"Two and a half," he counters. "You're not flying until Sunday afternoon."

Her mind wanders to New York, to the city she left single, still secretly nursing the last remnants of heartbreak, totally focused on her career. Who is the person returning to her apartment, to her life? She wonders if everything will look and feel different, now that her life has been turned upside down. Will the sky be brighter, the coffee fresher, the autumn leaves even more beautiful? Or will she be too wrapped up in Fitz to even notice?

"Tomorrow I think we should see Notting Hill."

"The movie?" she asks, distracted.

"No, the place," he chuckles. "Then I'm going to take you to The Ritz for afternoon tea."

Her mind immediately refocuses. "Ooh, I've always wanted to go there."

"I thought you might. And Saturday I think we should get out of London - Brighton is only an hour away on the train."

"Brighton?"

"It's a seaside city. Beaches, the famous Pier, fish and chips - it's quintessentially English. We used to go down at weekends when I studied here. It's one of my favorite places."

Olivia smiles, tracing her fingertip along his jaw. "If you love it, I'm sure I will too."

"And Sunday morning," he continues, "I have a surprise for you."

And suddenly there's a lump in her throat because after Sunday morning comes goodbye - a temporary one, but goodbye nonetheless. She kisses him into silence, letting herself get lost in him, in the familiarity of his body and this hotel room where they've lived in their fantasy, almost entirely undisturbed by the outside world.

"Let's not talk about Sunday," she says softly, running her fingers through his hair, determined to shower him with the affection he's been deprived of for far too long.

"Okay." His tone is light but she can see in his eyes recognition that she's hurting; that her hurt makes him hurt too. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Dinner. I'm hungry. You haven't fed me for hours."

He laughs, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "Okay. Do you want room service or shall we go out?"

"Let's go out. I want to wear something sinfully sexy and go dancing afterwards."

"Really?"

"Yes, old man," she teases, sitting up. "I'm twenty six, it's a Thursday, I'm on vacation in a city where the paparazzi don't follow me and I want to drink tequila and have a good time with my hot, married lover. Is that okay with you?"

"Less of the 'old man'," he retorts, but she can see that he's persuaded. "And even at forty - which is so ancient, I know - I can definitely match you drink for drink."

"Wanna bet?"

He swats at her ass as she heads towards the bathroom. "Oh, we're on."

* * *

Fitz takes her to an Ecuadorian restaurant in Shoreditch and introduces her to all his favorite dishes, flavors which take him back fifteen years to Daniela's mom's tiny kitchen in a village in the middle of nowhere. They do drink tequila - a lot of it - and end up in a bar with a dance floor, which doesn't start to fill until almost midnight. By that time they're undeniably drunk and Fitz - who can't dance at all - is happy to use the wall for support and let Olivia grind all over him in her tiny black dress, her mouth and her small hands doing all sorts of naughty things to him under the cover of darkness. He suspects when he looks in the mirror tomorrow he'll be covered in hickeys.

They leave some time around two AM, getting soaked on the street as they try to hail a cab. She sits in his lap the whole way back to the hotel, initially leaving kisses all over his skin but gradually slowing until he realizes she's fallen asleep.

He strips her off and it's such a contrast to the night before, after the opera, which was so sensual - now she's floppy, giggling and wet. "I'm so drunk Fitzy," she whispers, like it's a huge secret, and she's pretty adorable for someone who's such a mess.

"Yes you are." He gets her into bed, completely naked, and hands her a bottle of water from the minibar. "Drink this."

"I can't."

"You can."

He's sobered up a little but still finishes his own bottle, hoping to stave off a completely horrendous hangover in the morning.

"Good girl," he says a minute later when she's managed half of it, joining her in bed.

"I had such a fun time," she sighs, curling her body around his.

And god, he loves her. He really, really does, already.

"Me too. Sleep well, beautiful."

"Night."

He presses his lips to her forehead in the dark and tries to stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

* * *

They do make it to Notting Hill the next day but not until gone eleven, with Olivia wearing her sunglasses and moving as slowly as possible. "I wish I felt more like Julia Roberts," she moans as they wander along the narrow streets. "Or looked as good as her. Or just was her, in general. Julia Roberts would never end up this hungover."

"No, I don't think she would," Fitz teases, and she frowns at him over her Ray Bans.

"Easy for you to say, Hugh Grant. How do you look so good this morning? We drank the same amount, didn't we?"

He shrugs, smirking. "Age and wisdom, Livvie. There are some perks to no longer being twenty six."

She nudges him in the ribs with her elbow. "Oh shush."

He pushes their reservation at The Ritz back to three thirty so Olivia can have a nap beforehand. She wakes up much more refreshed and by the time they've finished their afternoon tea, she's almost her normal self again. The entire experience of caring for her hungover has been totally endearing, and even though she's apologized a thousand times he refuses to accept. She was right - she _is_ young, and she likes to have a good time. God knows he spent a large portion of his twenties partying like there was no tomorrow.

They have a quiet night in, eating in the hotel's restaurant, and the next day is gloriously sunny when they arrive in Brighton. She's like a child when they get to the seaside, so impatient and excited to see everything all at once. They play in the arcades on the pier and lose all their money; he buys her an ice cream and it ends up all over their faces in a ridiculously sticky game involving an obscene amount of licking for a public place. They dip their toes in the water and decide it's far too cold; they eat fish and chips sitting on the pebbled beach, shooing away hungry seagulls and listening to the waves hitting the shore.

"This is amazing," she sighs, lying back and gazing up at the clear blue sky. "I can see why you love it."

He lies beside her and they gaze at each other, linking their fingers together, both thinking how perfect this day is to end their week. On the train home she falls asleep against his shoulder and he sits there and pretends she's his wife, imagining that's what other passengers see when they look at them. It's a dangerous game and he's very mindful of getting carried away, of losing his grip on reality. He's not sure what he's going to do with himself when she's gone.

They make love long into the night, over and over until they've given everything they've got. They make plans for the following weekend, back in New York, but it just doesn't seem real - life has changed irrevocably for them both.

Sunday morning comes too soon and Fitz is so tempted to keep her in bed, to keep on loving her because he still hasn't had enough. She tries to be upbeat but her dark eyes are full of sadness and it's heartbreaking.

"Livvie, it's not over," he says after breakfast, pulling her into a hug. "It's only just beginning."

"I know," she murmurs, trying her best to smile. "I'm okay. Now, what's this surprise you've got for me?"

He grins. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. You ready to go?"

She takes one last look at their suitcases, packed and sitting side by side on the bed. He's leaving today too, traveling to Oxford to stay with an old friend, Mark, and his family - Fitz's Godchildren.

"Tell me about them," she asks as they take a taxi to their mystery destination.

Fitz shows her photos on his phone. "That's Holly, she's ten. And Sophie, she's eight. They're amazing. Holly has already passed several grades on the violin - Mark has sent me a photo of her with every one of her certificates. And Sophie loves horse riding - and I mean, she _loves_ horse riding. Whenever we Skype it's literally all she talks about for twenty minutes."

"Can I ask another question?" Olivia asks at length, gazing at him with tenderness in her eyes, and he knows exactly what it is.

"Because it was never the right time for us," he sighs. "Mellie wanted a kid right at the beginning but I was always away, traveling. And then by the time I decided I was ready to be a dad, she'd moved on from the idea."

She just looks at him, her gaze never wavering, wordlessly absorbing his pain. "Do you still want children?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

They are both silent for a minute and he wonders what she's thinking about behind those beautiful eyes. "Okay," she says finally, a small smile on her lips, and that's the end of the conversation.

His heart feels as light as a feather.

They arrive shortly at the riverside and he pays the taxi driver. "So, where are we?" Olivia asks, tugging impatiently on his hand.

"You'll see."

He leads her towards a building on their left where there are several men and women pulling rowing boats from the water. "This is Imperial College Boat Club," he says, pausing at the doorway and turning to her. "This was my rowing club when I was at university there. Come inside."

It's a large building, paneled in dark wood: one wall is covered with team photographs and the other entirely taken up by an enormous trophy cabinet. Out of the back windows is the Thames, still dotted with teams of students practicing. Fitz feels such overwhelming nostalgia being here that it takes him a moment to remember why they came.

He draws her towards the photos and spends a little while searching for one in particular. "Here."

And there he is, age twenty three, with his team of four others after they won the Britannia Challenge Cup at the Henley Royal Regatta.

"Oh my god," Olivia says, her face a picture of awe. "That's amazing, Fitz. You're part of history. Nice leotard, by the way."

He laughs and holds her closer, his arm around her shoulders. "Thanks."

"Mark Addlington," she reads from the plaque beneath. "Is that the same Mark- ?"

"Yeah. We've been friends almost eighteen years now."

"Wow."

"I can remember that race so vividly. It was the last of the year and we'd won quite a few events in the lead up to it. And at the end, as I realized we were going to cross the finish line first, I was so exhausted I temporarily blacked out - so I actually missed the moment we won."

She smiles, running her fingertip over his young face. "This is so cool. I can't believe you were here, all those years ago: coming down here early in the morning; racing these boats..."

"...Getting horrendously drunk afterwards in the bar," he adds, making her laugh. "Between you and me, I've definitely puked in the bathroom here on more than one occasion."

She scrunches up her nose which makes him chuckle. "Ew."

"Hey, I was young and stupid. But it was the best year of my life." She looks up at him and he's so blown away by how much she already means to him that he immediately revises his statement. "Until this one," he says, and he's deadly serious.

They walk along the river bank for a little while until it's time to head back to the hotel and check out. "Bye bye, room," Olivia says, wandering around their little nest. She runs her hand over the bed; along the wall where he made her fall apart several times. "We had some good times here."

"Good?" Fitz repeats, feigning hurt. "I think they were more than just 'good', baby."

"Okay," she grins. "We had some really fucking incredible times here. Is that better?"

He wraps his arms around her waist. "Much."

They stay there for several minutes, holding onto each other. He can feel her breathing deepening, like she's fighting back her emotions, and he lets go so he can look at her face. "Don't," he says gently. "Smiles only."

And she rolls her eyes but manages one anyway. "Sorry. I'm ready. Let's go."

* * *

"I have a present for you," Fitz says, reaching into his bag. He's come with her to the airport, partly because he's a gentleman and partly because she knows he doesn't want her to leave any more than she wants to go.

She opens the plastic bag to find a white t-shirt emblazoned with large black letters and a red heart to read _I heart LONDON_. It's so touristy and she absolutely adores it. "Thank you!"

She kisses him, tasting his mouth over and over again because it's become so innate, kissing him, that she doesn't know how she'll survive without it.

"When did you buy this?" she asks eventually, still clinging onto him.

"On Friday, while you were napping. I know it's tacky but I thought you could wear it in bed and always remember this week."

"I'll wear it every night," she promises, "And you'll get to see just how sexy I can make it."

He laughs, kissing her again. "I can't wait."

She basks in the feeling of his body wrapped around hers, so warm and strong, memorizing it until the next time they meet. "It's only five days," she says aloud, trying not to let her voice catch. "It's no big deal, right?"

"No big deal," he repeats, touching the tip of her nose with his index finger.

"It's going to be different back home, though, isn't it? We'll have to be a secret for a while. It's going to be harder."

Fitz shrugs and she can see he's putting on a brave face for her, something she really appreciates. "It is. But you know what I think?"

"What?" she asks, her voice small, feeling more vulnerable than she ever has with him before.

He nuzzles his face in her neck, kissing his way to her ear. "It's going to be _better_."

And she vows to try her very best to believe him.

They end up making out for several minutes, desperate to stay together until the last possible moment. "Okay," she says eventually, struggling to draw breath between his ravenous kisses. "I'm going now. And don't give me those eyes," she sighs, because they alone are enough for her to stay. "I'll see you in five days. Have a great time in Ox- ford-"

Her voice finally breaks at the end, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Oh shit."

Fitz holds her as she sobs, feeling ridiculously silly and also like her world is ending. "Ssh," he says, pressing his lips her hair, which only makes it worse.

She lets it all out until she's feeling ever so slightly better. She hiccups and sniffles as she recovers; her face is soaked and she doesn't care because the way he's looking at her makes her feel like the most precious thing on Earth.

"This is just the beginning of our extraordinary life," he tells her, cupping her cheeks in his hands, wiping away her tears while they shine in his eyes, too. "Have a safe flight home, sweet baby. Thank you for..." He shrugs hopelessly, lost for words.

"... For _everything_."

She mirrors his smile, sharing his inability to articulate just what this week has meant to her. "Thank _you_. I'll miss you."

"I'll call you."

"You'd better."

She picks up her bags but doesn't move, gazing up at him.

"Go, Livvie."

"One more kiss."

He obliges - _fiercely_.

And then she turns and walks away with fresh tears on her face, absolutely sure in the knowledge that she has fallen totally, completely and forever in love with Fitzgerald Grant.

She only hopes that will be enough to withstand what's to come.


	11. How's Home?

**I'm once again overwhelmed by all your reviews. They have been so inspiring - thank you so so much. I hope you enjoy this next part too.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: How's Home?**

Back in New York, reality hits hard for Olivia.

She managed to sleep on the flight, emotionally exhausted, and on the way to her apartment she keeps telling herself she's looking forward to getting home, to curling up on her sofa and sleeping in her own bed at night. But turning the key in her lock and wandering inside, the rooms feel as empty as her heart.

She makes a cup of tea and sips it, staring out of the living room window at the city she loves so much as the sky darkens from the vibrant orange of sunset. In a way they're lucky, she and Fitz, that they both live here. Imagine if he was based in LA, or DC or somewhere even further afield, like Colombia. Would she have considered moving to be with him?

Against all rational thought and sense, of course she would - there's no question.

Her phone rings and she's expecting to see his name, even though it's past eleven PM in the UK, because she texted to say she'd landed safely and he hasn't replied yet. But it's Quinn, and although the last thing she feels like doing right now is making conversation, she knows she should answer.

"Hey."

"Hey Liv. I saw your flight arrived on time. Are you home yet?"

She gazes around the apartment she's lived in for the past three years, bought for her by her father and lovingly decorated in exactly her style: wooden floor boards dotted with an assortment of rugs; her large white sofa and matching armchairs scattered with cushions and several soft, gray throws; one wall that's almost entirely a bookcase and her baby grand piano in the corner. Her adjoining kitchen is duck-egg blue, the cupboards scrubbed down and re-painted by her own hands; there's a table in the middle where she sits facing the window, eating takeout or working on her laptop, and on a clear day she can see all the way to the river.

It's large, with two bedrooms: one en suite with a walk-in closet and the second acting as her office. It too has a spectacular view but she often ends up in the kitchen instead, closer to the coffee machine when she's working long into the night. She's had some good times here, by herself and with friends and even with Edison - and when their relationship fell apart, this apartment was also her sanctuary.

And yet somehow, after all that, right now it doesn't feel like home at all.

"Yeah," she sighs, "I'm here. I got in about ten minutes ago."

"Everything okay?"

"Fine thanks. I'm just tired." And she can't help but yawn because her body is telling her it's past her bedtime. "Sorry. How's everything been while I was away?"

"Yeah, nothing to worry about. I'll let you get to bed, Liv. We can talk tomorrow - what time do you think you'll be in the office?"

"I'm hoping seven, but definitely by eight." She's always been an early riser: tea, cereal, yoga or a swim and into work before the majority of her colleagues have even gotten out of bed. But this last week with Fitz has ruined all her routines: late nights, later mornings and a very different kind of exercise... Not that she's complaining about that, _at all._

She says goodbye to Quinn and decides to run a bath, lighting candles and pouring in her favorite bubbles. She sets her phone within reach on the window sill, willing it to ring even as she chides herself for being so desperate. He's spending time with a friend he hasn't seen for over a year: she shouldn't expect him to call the instant she lands. And yet... he just seems the sort of man who would, and it hurts that he hasn't. Doubts are starting to creep in around the corners of her mind and she's so tired she can't completely refute them. What if she's developed unrealistic expectations which are just impossible for him to meet back in the real world? What if her fantasies about how life would be back in their homeland were exactly that - fantasies?

Or, worst of all: what if he just isn't as perfect as she thought he was? One more great pretender, like Edison Davis…

The hot water is instantly calming as it envelops her body and she lets it soothe her, quietening her anxieties. She might not have known him long but Fitz is _nothing_ like Edison, she's already sure of that. Over the past six months she's finally started to feel like she can trust her instincts again (after making such a catastrophic error of judgement last time) and her gut is telling her that Fitz is one of the good guys.

No, one of the _best_.

If only he wasn't someone else's first.

She closes her eyes, trying to get rid of those thoughts as well. There's no use dwelling on how she _wishes_ things were: they are what they are, and she and Fitz _will_ be together, whatever it takes. There's no one else in the world who she will ever want; no one who is more perfect for her than him. They just fit. They are _it_.

He's The One.

… If only he would call.

She washes, trying to distract herself, and discovers she's sore in long-forgotten places now that she finally has a moment alone to reconnect with her body. Before last weekend it had been over a year since she'd had sex and even though she felt it with Fitz, those first few days, he was just too irresistible to ever turn down. She's more toned, too - the bedroom mirror shows her that, when she's dried off and looking at herself, seeing someone she barely recognizes staring back. Despite the alcohol and the extravagant meals, all the sightseeing and walking and - of course - the bedroom activities have definitely had an effect. The urge to take a photo and send it to him surfaces but is rebuked straight away by the horrifying thought of her phone being hacked, her privacy violated. It's happened to people she knows and, not for the first time this week, she really despises the fact that she is in the public eye. Then it wouldn't matter that she'd fallen in love with a married man: they would explain to their friends and family, and beyond that they wouldn't have to care what anyone else thought.

But having the entire _world_ judge her - she's nowhere near strong enough to cope with that. As long as they can ride it out until his divorce and keep their illicit beginning hidden, they'll be okay. She has some serious planning to do with Harrison and the rest of her PR team in the next few months but she doesn't want to tell them just yet; doesn't want to unravel her secret life with Fitz any further until they're _ready_. They will have so many obstacles to overcome just to see each other without being followed or photographed, and while she's already longing for the day when they can step out in public and live something of a normal life, what they need right now is time - to nurture their precious relationship, to grow together.

And, even more than time, what Olivia currently needs most of all is to sleep. She brushes her teeth; contemplates emptying her suitcases and decides against it almost immediately because even the thought is exhausting. She does find the t-shirt Fitz bought her and puts it on before settling down into her bed, sighing contentedly at the scent of her sheets and the familiarity of her own mattress and pillows. Now she finally feels at home.

She contemplates calling Fitz, thinking he's probably still awake because she's managed to banish almost all of her earlier doubts and she's sure he would have contacted her before going to sleep. But, just in case, she sends a text instead. She tries to keep her eyes open as she waits anxiously for him to reply, for him to prove her right, but her body clock and an emotional day are threatening to drag her into the land of dreams. If she doesn't get to speak to him tonight she'll be more upset than she'd ever admit because damn it, she really misses him already.

Her ringtone wakes her from semi-consciousness just a few minutes later and seeing his name on the screen makes her instantly, embarrassingly happy.

" _Hi."_

"Hi, Livvie. I'm so sorry," he says, his deep voice as sexy as ever. "I've only just come up to bed. We've been sitting around the kitchen for the last five hours drinking wine and catching up. I kept thinking about you, wondering if you'd landed, but I didn't want to be rude and go check my phone. Can you forgive me?"

Relief floods her. Her instincts are still working: he's still absolutely perfect. "Of course I can," she breathes, and he's already forgiven.

"Good." She can tell he's smiling. "How's home?"

"It's okay."

"Just okay?"

His tone is so sweet and concerned that she finds herself confessing: "It's kind of lonely... I miss you."

"I miss you too. All evening I've been wondering where you are, expecting you to appear from another room and sit beside me. I can't wait to introduce you to Mark and Annabel - you'll love them, and they'll love you."

She can't help but yawn, her eyes closing. "I'm sure I will."

"Sorry, I should let you sleep."

"No, I want to hear more about your day. Talk to me. But if I go quiet for a little while, maybe just hang up."

He laughs. "Okay."

She listens for as long as she can, trying to picture Sophie at her riding lesson in the Oxfordshire countryside and Holly's violin concerto in the living room, imagining Fitz relaxing in his friend's home and feasting on a traditional Sunday roast, but eventually she has to admit that she's lost.

"Fitzy, I need to sleep," she whispers, yawning again. "I'm sorry."

He yawns too. "No, it's okay. It's almost one AM here anyway."

"Night night. Call me tomorrow?"

"Of course."

They pause, neither wanting to hang up. Listening to his steady breathing, she can almost imagine he's right beside her and not thousands of miles away.

"I'm wearing the t-shirt," she says sleepily, smiling like she would if he could see her.

"Really? Damn, I wish I was there."

She giggles. "I wish you were too."

And then they both sigh, lapsing into silence again.

"Goodnight sweet baby," Fitz says eventually, and he sounds as sad as she feels. She tries to reply but the words get stuck in her throat, so instead she hangs up and sends him a text as her eyes fill with tears: a single kissing emoticon, its lips pursed, a red heart rising from them.

He replies, seconds later, with three.

* * *

Fitz spends Monday morning lazing around the house after Mark and Annabel go to work, the girls to school, waiting for New York to wake up so he can do some work himself. He misses Olivia so much it's a physical ache and he's restless, wandering from room to room, unable to concentrate on anything for more than ten minutes at a time. Eventually he goes for a run around the village and then further, pushing himself harder than he has in a long time, but even the beauty of the Cotswolds on a clear day isn't enough to distract him. It's so good to see his friends again, to marvel at how much his Goddaughters have grown and developed in the space of a year, but all he really wants to do is book himself a ticket on the next flight home - to her.

And that makes him feel like a really terrible person.

She surprises him with a call around midday, sounding much brighter than she did last night. "I slept like a baby," she says and he can hear the noise of the city in the background as she walks to her office. "I still have that horrible back-to-work-post-vacation feeling but at least I'm well rested."

"You can't have missed me that much then," he replies, feigning hurt. "I tossed and turned all night in my big, empty bed without you."

"Really?"

"No," he grins, and she laughs. "Actually it was great, having all that space and no one to steal the covers."

"I do _not_ steal covers!"

"You did, literally every night. I kept having to unroll you from the little cocoon you'd made yourself."

"Why didn't you say something?" she asks, amused.

"What difference would it make? You're unconscious, you can't help it. And besides, you're so cute all wrapped up."

"Ugh. Who wants to be cute?"

But she loves it, and they both know it.

They make plans to speak again later and Fitz fills the next few hours on the phone to Cyrus and his various project managers, in lieu of his usual Monday meetings. He calls a few clients, answers some emails, and before he knows it Annabel is arriving home with Holly and Sophie.

"My three favorite girls," he says warmly, mentally adding Olivia as a fourth as he clears his laptop and paperwork from the kitchen table. Annabel, blonde hair falling messily from its ponytail, takes off her gilet and muddy wellington boots by the door. She co-owns a riding center with her sister and brings the familiar smell of horses into the house with her, taking Fitz right back to his childhood on the ranch. He only ever rides when he's here or visiting his father, and is really looking forward to going with her tomorrow.

"You can stay more often, Fitz. I haven't been called a girl in years - unless it's 'Old Girl', of course." She rolls her eyes at her husband's affectionate nickname as she comes over to give him her customary kiss on each cheek. "How was your day? I'm so sorry we had to leave you here alone when you've come all this way to see us. We've got two stable hands off sick so it's super busy I'm afraid, and Mark is really under pressure with this church renovation. One of his junior architects just isn't pulling her weight, but at least he's managed to negotiate Wednesday off to spend with you."

"How far away is America?" Sophie chimes in, climbing onto the chair beside him before he can tell Annabel that he really doesn't mind.

"Really far," her sister replies solemnly. "Like, a hundred thousand miles."

Fitz chuckles. "Not quite so far - that's four times around the planet. It's closer to three thousand miles. Do you have a world map? I can show you."

He lets Holly point out New York and shows the girls how to use the scale and a ruler to calculate distances. They spend a while doing this, planning amazing adventures to Antarctica and Australia to see penguins and kangaroos. When the girls reluctantly leave to do their homework, Annabel makes a pot of tea and tells him the same thing she always does: "You're so good with them, Fitz. They really love you."

And it's usually followed by an unspoken question, because they've been friends for long enough: _When are you going to have one?_

Except this time, she knows the answer won't be anytime soon because he told them both about the divorce last night. Mark was surprised; Annabel not so much. She and Mellie were always civil but Fitz is well aware they would never have been friends if their husbands weren't. Looking back over the years, it seems so obvious now that Mellie wasn't right for him. Whereas Olivia… She would fit perfectly, even in this old farmhouse kitchen with her designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails, because she's _warm,_ and lovely, and funny. She's the antithesis of his wife and he's just dying to tell his hosts about her, about how he's met his soulmate. But he's managed to hold his tongue so far - it's not just his secret to share, and she has far more at stake than him.

"So now what?" Annabel asks. "Are you going to sell your house and buy somewhere else?"

"I guess so." He hasn't really had chance to consider it - he's been far too busy making love to another woman. That thought, the memories it invokes, makes him shift in his chair. "It depends on the divorce settlement, but I'm hoping we can split our assets equally. I'm a little concerned that Mel has an unfair advantage over me, being a lawyer herself."

"I'm sure you can find someone just as good to represent you." She looks at him like she's trying really hard to see beneath the surface. "You sound like you're taking this all in your stride. Are you really okay?"

He smiles. "Come on, Annie. You don't have to pretend anymore. We both know what she was really like. Sure, it's a huge change and I won't ever be proud of the fact that I've had a failed marriage. But I really am okay. I don't love her, and I don't know her well enough anymore to miss her."

"I just… can't imagine it." She looks around the kitchen, at the walls covered in the kids' artwork, at the years of family memories etched into every inch of this house. He feels it every time he comes here: this is a place filled with love. Whereas his and Mellie's brownstone back in New York has never felt the warmth he's always craved. "I can't imagine ever having to move, to separate all those years of togetherness into two sets of cardboard boxes."

Fitz shrugs, sipping his tea. "We've lived different lives for a long time. You and Mark were so lucky, meeting each other so young and making it work."

"You'll find someone else," she says, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, and he can't help but smile to himself. If only she knew.

Mark arrives home after five and Annabel insists on cooking so the men can continue to catch up over a beer on the patio, enjoying the evening sunshine.

"This is the life," Fitz sighs, reclining in his chair and stretching out his legs. The house is on the edge of the village with absolutely stunning views across the countryside. "Maybe I should move here."

"You say that every year," his friend chuckles, "And yet you always return to New York. You love that city."

"I do." But his mind is on Vermont, on a big house like this where it's Olivia sitting beside him, their children bouncing on the trampoline at the end of the garden.

"We need to come and visit you," Mark goes on. "It's almost five years since we last flew over."

He has Fitz's attention again. "Really? My god, time flies. Sophie was so little she probably doesn't even remember."

"And yet her running around Macys completely naked and weeing in the middle of the men's clothing department is forever etched into our memories."

They laugh. "One to bring up at her wedding," Fitz suggests.

"Oh, definitely. Although she's never, ever getting married. She's going to be my baby girl forever."

They both gaze at Mark's daughters, their squeals of laughter filling the warm air as they run around, and it's moments like these when Fitz feels desperately, achingly sad that he isn't a father too; that his life isn't filled with this same, unparalleled joy.

But when his friend speaks again, he echoes Fitz's next thoughts exactly: "At least you and Mellie don't have to worry about kids in your divorce." Their eyes meet and Mark looks a little guilty. "Is that a terrible thing to say?"

"No, not at all." And it's not, because they've been friends for almost twenty years and because he's absolutely right. "That would have been awful."

"You know, every time you called in the last few years, part of me was always expecting you to say Mellie was pregnant."

Fitz is surprised. "Really?" He leans in closer, although the girls are already out of earshot. "You have to be having sex to get pregnant."

Mark laughs briefly, but he's serious again when he says: "I didn't realize you'd been having problems for that long."

"We got good at pretending," Fitz shrugs. "And then the pretend became real."

They both sip their beers in silence for a few moments, absorbing his words. "In that case, I'm glad you're moving on," Mark says eventually. "You deserve to be happy. You'll find someone else in no time - you've barely aged since we were at uni. Now _that_ is because you don't have kids: you have the luxury of free time to go to the gym, to keep yourself looking sickeningly toned and handsome; to have mani-pedis or whatever you metropolitan guys do."

Fitz can't help but laugh. "For the record, I have _never_ had manicure. And you were a metropolitan guy too, once upon a time. Working in the city, living in Kensington-"

"-In that ridiculously tiny flat because it's all we could afford, but we thought the postcode was worth it. Annie had to climb over me to get out of bed because the room wasn't big enough to have space on both sides. I got offered my first job in Oxford the same day she found out she was pregnant with Holly - I still don't think I've ever seen her cry so much."

"And look at you now." Fitz gestures to their beautiful country home.

"What, mortgaged up to my eyeballs and growing a dad-bod by the day?" He considers his friend. "How did we end up so different? I always thought our lives would play out the same way."

"You married the right girl," Fitz says simply, "And I didn't."

And that doesn't hurt half as much as it should because he knows now that his life is only just beginning. "You should come visit at Christmas," he continues, changing the topic - this reminiscing it getting a bit deep for two middle-aged guys. "I'll be settled in somewhere new by then."

"Mum and Dad would kill me if I tried to take the girls away for Christmas," Mark admits with a wry grin. "Maybe the Easter holidays instead?"

"Great. I'll pencil it in."

Mark laughs. "Sometimes I forget just how American you are."

"What, the accent doesn't give it away?"

"Of course. But I bet you don't actually own a pencil - it's only us architects who use such prehistoric tools these days."

"I barely use a pen," Fitz confesses. "I just type everything. Or I dictate, and my secretary types."

Mark rolls his eyes. "The lifestyles of the rich and famous."

"The grass is always greener, buddy." And yet, for the first time in a long time, he doesn't actually think it is. Ten days ago he would have given anything to switch places with his friend: to have a wife he adores, two amazing kids - a perfect picture of family life. But now there's nothing he wants more than to be with Olivia: to learn her inside out; to let her fill up his life with her laughter, her radiance, her light.

He wants to be able to call his friend one day, in the not too-distant future, and say: "I found her. _The right girl_."

* * *

It's the middle of the night when Olivia's phone rings. She's momentarily disorientated, dreaming she's still at the fundraiser, and doesn't even look at the screen before answering. "Hello?"

"Oh... hey. It's me. Shit, I didn't think you'd answer."

"Fitz? What time is it?"

"About… four AM, your time. I'm so sorry Livvie, I assumed your phone would be on silent. I wanted to leave a voicemail."

She switches on the bedside lamp and sits up, brushing her hair out of her face. Her momentary shock at being woken up from such a deep sleep is fading and instead of being pissed off, she's excited to get to talk to him again. 'Smitten' just doesn't cover it. "Well I'm awake now. You can tell me instead."

"I've just been online, browsing photos of you from the gala last night. Baby, you looked sensational. You are so sexy; I'm getting hard again just thinking about you in that dress."

"Fitz!" She can feel herself blushing… and becoming aroused. "Where are you?"

"Don't worry, I'm in my room and home alone." There's a pause as he lets that sink in. "How was the evening?"

"Great." But she's distracted, and she knows he knows it. "I took Quinn, we had fun. And we raised a lot of money and awareness, which is the main thing."

"I beg to differ," he says, and his voice is even deeper now than usual. "The main thing is _you_ , looking like that. I wish I could've been there."

That's the same thought she'd had all night long. Because she did try to have fun, but she really wanted him there beside her.

"You would have blown our cover straight away," she says, teasing him. "We can't go to events until you've learned to control the way you look at me. And your wandering hands."

"And my erections."

She would laugh, but she's suddenly burning up for him. "Fitz…"

He groans. "I love it when you breathe my name like that. Say it again."

" _Fitz."_

He has such power over her: his voice alone can turn her on beyond belief. And the thought of him getting so aroused by her, halfway across the world, has her whole body thrumming with desire.

"Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're wearing."

She's never had phone sex before but she doesn't even pause. "My _I heart London_ t-shirt. And some tiny lacy panties. They're…" She looks down to check. "Pale blue, with a white bow." And her fingers stay there, lightly stroking the material, making herself moan. "They feel so soft."

Fitz's breathing is heavy. "Jesus, Livvie. Are you touching yourself?"

"Yes. I'm so horny… so wet already."

He groans again and she lies back, putting her phone on speaker next to her head on the pillow. She uses her free hand to take hold of her breast, squeezing the tight, aching flesh. "My nipples are hard," she murmurs, brushing over each one in turn with her thumb, whimpering as fire shoots through her belly. "Feels so good, when I touch them."

"Oh baby." He sounds like a starving man who's finally been given food: desperate and ravenous. "I'm so fucking hard for you. I can see you naked: every glorious inch of you. I'm imagining it's your hand on me, not mine."

She sits up briefly to pull off her t-shirt, to get rid of her underwear. "I'm naked now," she breathes, settling back down again, drawing circles on her clit which in turn draws moans from her throat. "Your hand is holding my boob," she says breathlessly, her eyes closed, and he's almost there beside her.

"My fingers inside you," he continues for her and she follows his instructions with a gasp, her back arching off the bed.

" _Ohh."_

"They're alternating between fucking you and rubbing your swollen clit."

And they are - and it's heavenly.

"Fuck," she whispers, rolling each nipple between her thumb and index finger. Her orgasm is fast approaching, making her toes curl. "Are you-?"

"Yes," he grunts, and she can hear the quick movements of his hand; his rapid, shallow breaths. "So close."

"I'm gonna come," she pants, as every sensation converges at the apex of her thighs and then _explodes_ with a helpless cry, blackness consuming her for several seconds.

"Fuck, baby. _Fuck_."

She loves that he swears when he comes, all guttural and uninhibited, just like she loves everything else about him.

They stay on the line, breathing hard together. "I can't believe that just happened," she mutters eventually and he laughs.

"The miseducation of Olivia Pope."

"Mm."

"I need to clean up," he sighs. "And you need to sleep."

"I was trying, before somebody woke me up." But she's not mad - how could she possibly be, after that?

"Same again tomorrow?" he asks cheekily and she laughs.

"No, Fitz. We should wait until Friday. Only three days now - you'll live."

"I don't think I can, without you."

She's quiet for a moment, absorbing the sincerity of his words and the warm feeling they give her. "I can't wait to see you."

She can hear the smile in his voice: "I can't either. Goodnight, gorgeous."

"Night."

Friday cannot come soon enough.

* * *

"So, tell me about this mystery guy. I want every single detail."

She's having dinner with Abby at their favorite Vietnamese restaurant. "No. I don't want to say too much too soon."

"Why not?"

"Because…" She sighs, looking around to check they're not being overheard. "He's married."

She hasn't felt as guilty about that as she should, because Fitz is far too consuming for her to think rationally around him. Stephen was okay with it but she needs to hear what Abby thinks, to get another perspective from someone she trusts - even though it could never change the way she feels.

"Liv! What?" She looks stunned. "You've been sleeping with a married man?"

"Yes, but keep your voice down." Olivia takes a drink of water. "He left his wife a month before we met. It was already over."

"And he told you that, did he? And you believe him?"

She's never doubted him. "Yeah, I do."

Abby is staring at her and she blinks when Olivia stares back. "Sorry, Liv. I'm just shocked. I mean, I've dated my fair share of bad guys and I've had that line used on me before, only to find out the truth later on."

"I know. But he's different."

Her friend looks skeptical. "Okay. Well, don't say I didn't warn you if he turns out to be just another lying asshole."

"Abby! Why are you being so rude? You don't even know him."

"But I do know men, Liv; a lot more of them than you do."

"So, what, your judgement is better than mine?"

Abby opens her mouth to speak but manages to stop herself before the words come out, and Olivia knows exactly what she was going to say.

"Seriously? You were about to bring up Edison?"

In her defense, Abby has the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"And I've learned from what happened. You should be happy I'm finally moving on."

"I am." She puts her hand on Olivia's forearm who tenses at the contact. "Liv, listen to me. I want you to be happy - you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. I just don't want you getting hurt again. Surely you can see why I'm concerned?"

She sighs, squeezing Abby's hand, because her friend is right. It's so easy to lose track of reality when she's totally wrapped up in Fitz. "Yeah, I can. I'm sorry too." They share a smile. "Thank you for looking out for me. But I trust him, Abs. He's really opened up to me. It feels like we've known each other forever; like we're… soulmates."

Damn it, she's said too much already. "Seriously? Okay, you _have_ to tell me more now. You can't just drop that bombshell and move on."

"What do you wanna know?" she asks warily.

"How old is he?"

"Forty."

"What? Jeez." It takes Abby a moment to recover from that. "But he's a hot forty though, right?"

"Oh yeah," she grins, picturing his beautiful face, his ripped body. "He's in Greek god territory."

"Wow. Okay, what does he do?"

"He runs an international charitable organization."

"Which one?"

Olivia laughs. "Nice try, Whelan. You're not getting that out of me because then Google will lead you straight to his door."

The inquisition continues a while longer, although she gives little else away. "When can I meet him?" Abby asks, and that's something she'd been wondering about herself.

"I don't know. It's my birthday meal the weekend after next and I would like him to be there."

"So bring him. And you may as well tell me who he is now, if we're gonna meet so soon anyway."

Olivia eyes her. "You're probably right. But London was this amazing bubble and I don't know what it will be like back here."

"Liv, if you think he's your soulmate then it'll be exactly the same. Soulmates don't abide by geographical boundaries."

She smiles as she lets that idea sink in, hoping beyond hope that her friend is right. "Just… give me a little more time. He's flying home on Thursday night and we're spending the weekend together. Maybe then I'll introduce you… I'm just terrified of what might happen if the media find out, so we're gonna have to see each other in secret until he's divorced."

"I won't tell anyone, you know that."

"I know. But I'm not ready to be labelled a home-wrecker and have my career ruined when it's only just beginning."

Abby looks sympathetic. "Okay." She picks up her glass and offers a toast: "To your mystery man, whoever he may be."

 _To Fitz_ , Olivia silently clarifies. _My soulmate_.

* * *

She makes it through Wednesday and Thursday, moving between local council meetings, event planning with her organization and a UN committee conference on the latest WHO report about the state of America's women's health. She's busy long into the evenings which is good because it gives her less time to pine for him; less time to dwell on the realization that she's already forgotten how to be alone.

Fitz calls at lunchtime on Thursday when he's at the airport and they talk for almost an hour, sharing every detail the other has missed out on since they last spoke. Even though she knows she has things to do, she doesn't let him hang up until his flight is ready for boarding. "I'll see you tomorrow evening," he says, and his voice holds a thousand promises she can't wait to explore.

"You have my address?"

"Yes, and I'll be there to pick you up at six o'clock sharp. You'd better be ready for me."

"Oh, I will be mister," she says playfully.

"See you very soon, Livvie."

"Have a safe flight, baby. I'm so excited to see you."

"Me too."

As it turns out, she's so excited she's still awake that night at eleven thirty, knowing that his plane has just landed. They'd arranged to meet the following day because it's so late and he's bound to be exhausted, but knowing that he's in the same city as her and given how much she's missed him every minute of every day… she picks up her phone and calls him.

"Hi."

"Hi. I'm still awake."

"I can tell." He sounds really tired and all of a sudden she feels shy - what if he turns her down?

"Do you… want to come and sleep over here?"

But there's no hesitation: "Yes."

"Really?"

"Olivia, there's nothing I want more right now than to hold you… and then fall asleep."

She giggles, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I'll pick up my cases and get a cab over."

"Okay," she breathes, filled with anticipation.

"Okay," he echoes, a smile in his voice which she can't wait to finally see in person once again.

The half hour wait for him to arrive is spent re-tidying her already-spotless apartment and trying not to freak out at the fact he's about to walk into her home: the center of her life. He'll drink coffee from the mugs her lips have touched a thousand times; see her laundry hanging out to dry, her tampons in the bathroom cabinet. She's never brought a guy back to her place so soon, but then again she's never felt this _sure_ until now; she's never dated Fitzgerald Grant before.

She phones the concierge and asks him to let Fitz up to her floor, safe in the knowledge that several of her neighbors are celebrities and the staff are bound by non-disclosure agreements. And then she sits on the edge of her bed and she waits for that knock on the door; for the man of her dreams to reappear in her reality…

… Five minutes later, he's there.

All six feet and one inch of him, dressed in jeans and a sweater with his curls a little messy, and he looks tired and happy and absolutely like everything she's ever wanted in her entire life. He closes the door behind him and drops his bags to the floor, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Hi," he says, and he really is right there in front of her - _at last_.

"Hi."

Her voice is full of emotions she can barely name and she takes his hand because if she kisses him here, in the hallway, that's where they'll spend the night. She guides him to her bedroom, uninterested in giving him a tour right now. All she wants is his body on hers, his mouth on her skin, his heart beating against her chest. And whether they have sex or whether he goes straight to sleep, it doesn't matter: she just wants all of him, in every way, forever.

He pauses at the threshold and as she continues forwards their fingers slide gently apart, holding on to each other until the last possible moment. She kneels in the middle of the bed and looks at him as his arm falls slowly back to his side, telling him with her eyes that this is her, and she's his, and he can have _everything_.

"Welcome home," she says softly.

It takes him less than a second to go to her.

And it is home, for them both.


	12. We Can't Stop, Can We?

**A/N: You're all amazing - I honestly can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing.**

 **(Please note I can't reply to your questions if you leave a review anonymously! But thank you for asking them, and for giving me things to think about.)**

 **This chapter is one of my favorites - I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve - We Can't Stop... Can We?

She's going to be late for work.

" _Ohh."_

Very late.

"Fitz!"

"Mmm.

His voice vibrates against her ribs, her abdomen as he kisses his way downwards.

" _Stop."_

She pushes on his shoulders - so large beneath her small hands - to make him look up at her; his smile is wicked as he drops his hips, connecting his very solid erection with her _very_ receptive core. Even through their underwear her body's response is instantaneous: eyes falling closed; air leaving her lungs in a strangled gasp; back arching off the bed, pushing her closer to him.

"Ohh," she says again as her legs wrap themselves around his waist.

"You see?" Fitz murmurs, gazing down at her with those blue eyes, his chestnut curls already a sexed-up mess from their first encounter since waking this morning, and honestly how could she _ever_ turn him down?

"I can't stop," he says, and he's looking at her with unadulterated lust and breathtaking tenderness - like she's the very center of everything he's ever known. "We can't stop... Can we?"

Caught in the intimacy of his gaze, their hearts thudding together in the quietness of the room, she decides right then that rumpled, insatiable, heart-on-his-sleeve Fitz is her absolute favorite. She hopes her eyes give him her answer; knows that her kisses and her hands and the way she starts to move her body against his certainly do.

"Don't stop," she's sighing minutes later when they're a tangle of limbs in the middle of the bed, drenched in early morning sunlight. This is where he belongs, and the universe knows it.

"Don't _ever_ stop, Fitzy."

"Never."

* * *

Later, Fitz is sitting alone in his friend Henry's kitchen, drinking a coffee and gazing out over the back yard with what he's sure must be a ridiculous grin on his face. He didn't know it was possible to feel this happy: he's so full of joy right now he's not sure how he's managing to contain it. He wants to jump up, to shout at the top of his voice; he even wants to dance and that thought makes him laugh aloud to himself. His body is awash with endorphins and he can still feel her all over him, despite being fresh out of the shower. Making love to Olivia Pope just once will do that to a man, let alone three times in less than twelve hours - they just can't help themselves.

He was exhausted when he arrived at her apartment last night, his mind telling him he should have been asleep hours ago, but that paled into insignificance as soon as she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. He remembers feeling momentarily overwhelmed seeing her kneel before him in the middle of her bed, looking so beautiful and vulnerable as she offered him every single piece of her. He wondered if he was dreaming until she spoke, welcoming him home - and he'd never felt like he belonged anywhere until that very moment.

As soon as he went to her and kissed her, he was overcome by the most furious wave of desire and then it became a race to be naked and inside of her as fast as possible. Their foreplay was their time apart: that aching build-up which ignited as soon as their mouths met, fueled by touch and taste and _love_. He bruised her lips with the voracity of his kisses; caressed every inch of her soft, cocoa skin and it was just as familiar as his own. The sex was quick - frantic, even - because he'd really fucking missed her and once they'd started, he just couldn't stop. When he made her come, seconds before he did, it was easy because she'd missed him just as much and because their otherworldly connection hadn't dimmed at all in their time apart - in fact, he felt he knew her better than ever.

And then this morning, after too little sleep, he woke with this incredible woman in his arms and he wanted her all over again. And _again_. Had she not had to go to work, he would have kept her in that bed all day long, loving her; _worshipping_ her. He meant what he said: they can't stop. It's just impossible, now.

If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would be in this situation, he would never have believed them. Two weeks ago, when he was still trying to remember the best of his wife; to see past the worst of her, which is all he's known for the last few years. He wonders when they became so toxic to one another; when the things he used to love about her became the things he hates most of all. Did she change, or was it him? He's had so many revelations about his marriage since meeting Olivia that he's already losing track, caught up in a whirlwind where she stands, perfectly serene and still, at the epicenter. Everything in his life now revolves around her and that should scare him, probably, but it doesn't. He's not afraid of falling in love; of baring his soul and offering her his heart. He knows she'll look after it: she makes him a promise to keep it safe every time their eyes meet.

He can't wait for this evening, to take her out in this city they both call home. Even under the guise of 'friends' or 'colleagues' he just wants to be seen beside her, to be associated with her because she is amazing. He's going to try his best to keep his hands to himself but he knows it won't be easy: he has a serious addiction to everything about her. He wonders whether they'll go to her apartment again afterwards or come back here, to this house which has been his home for the last six weeks. He met Henry in Ecuador years ago, both of them volunteers, and while Fitz eventually settled down his friend still spends months of the year abroad, making this place the obvious choice when Fitz needed somewhere to stay.

And besides, Henry knows what he's going through: he got divorced last year, from one of Mellie's closest friends. The two women are cut from the same cloth and when Fitz first called to ask if he could stay, his friend let him vent and could sympathize with every single word. Fitz now finds that he's envious: if only he was already divorced, he and Olivia could be together right now, in the open. He could walk through the city holding her hand; kiss her in the middle of the street whenever he felt like it (which would be all the time, of course). They could feed each other in the window seats of all their favorite restaurants and let the press take photos to their hearts' content, with nothing other than their age gap to try and sensationalize.

As it is, he won't let anyone suggest that she was in any way involved in the breakdown of his marriage. He won't let it be insinuated that she 'stole' him from Mellie; that she's a homewrecker or worse - a _whore_ \- for daring to date a man who was not legally single at the time. He's the bad guy in all of this and he doesn't really care if anyone comes after him: his business and his reputation are strong enough to survive. But he knows how much Olivia's career means to her, and that her being so successful so young has meant a lot of media interest in her personal life. He feels a fierce desire to protect her and right now, the best way to do that is to keep their secret and hurry his divorce along as fast as possible.

He stands, finishing the last of his coffee before heading upstairs to finally unpack his suitcases. He decides to take nearly everything to the dry cleaners and realizes he's going to need to stop off at his house to pick up some more clothes. He calls Mellie's office and checks with one of the receptionists that she's there without giving his name - he doesn't want her to know he's back, and he certainly doesn't want to see her if he doesn't have to. It's one thing that he's fallen for Olivia; quite another to stand in front of his wife when another woman is all over him, so engrained in him already that he's certain her aura surrounds him, visible to everyone.

He drops off his dry cleaning and then calls Olivia on the drive to his house, hoping to catch her between meetings, but she doesn't answer. He misses her already and they've only been apart a few hours. How did they make it through four days? And he's away in California next weekend too, for his father's annual charity gala: a trip he always dreads, but even more so now that it means being apart from love of his life. The luxury of their week in London suddenly seems a very long time ago.

The house looks exactly the same when he pulls up in the driveway: large and beautifully manicured, but _cold_. There's no charm to it; none of the love that surrounds Mark and Annabel's home, or even Liv's apartment. And inside, it's not just empty of people - and who needs four bedrooms, really, with no children to fill them? - but it's soulless. He can't remember the last time he laughed here, or put on loud music or felt _relaxed_ , like he belonged. It's just a place he showered and slept, spending most evenings and weekends either in the office or out with friends, playing sports or drinking in bars.

Looking around, he can't see that much has changed since he left except most of the liquor bottles in the drinks cabinet are empty now, and upstairs there's a tumbler on Mellie's nightstand which is almost certainly vodka. He can't help but wonder if another man has been here in his absence. Maybe the guy she slept with on the same night he met Olivia has become a regular thing; maybe he's making her happy. But there's nothing to suggest anyone has been in the house except his wife and their cleaner.

His eyes are drawn to their wedding photo on the bookcase in their bedroom, the first time he's actually noticed it in years. Has she left it there on purpose, for sentimentality, or is it just an invisible relic to her too? If he's ever lucky enough to marry Olivia, he will cherish every memory of their special day; he won't ever let them fade and be ignored, just another ordinary part of everyday life. She is _extra_ ordinary, and he won't ever stop thinking so.

He takes the photograph downstairs and puts in in the bureau drawer with their other albums. Then he decides he doesn't _ever_ want to come back to this sad house again. He gets boxes from the garage and packs up the rest of his things: cook books, whiskey glasses, clothes, toiletries, his gym kit and squash racquets. He doesn't want to take over Henry's house but he'll store it all in his car if it means he doesn't need to return here. As he sorts through cupboards and boxes he realizes so much of what he owns means nothing to him: he doesn't _need_ most of these things. He only needs Olivia, now.

The back of his car is full by the time he's finished; he's even managed to fit his skis in. There are two hours until his meeting with the divorce lawyer so he drives to his office, leaving his home behind without looking back. What's the point? He's much, much happier looking forwards. The inner city traffic doesn't even bother him today and after he's parked underground and taken the elevator up, he's finally somewhere that does feels like home. His business encompasses the entire twenty first floor and has spectacular city views in all directions. He stops to chat to everyone on his way across the office, finding out what's new with them. He considers every employee a friend, from the admin staff to his top accounts managers.

And then there's Cyrus, visible through the glass walls in the middle of some passionate speech, his fist raised in the air as he addresses the meeting room. They've worked together for almost ten years now and Fitz counts the older man among his closest friends. A shrewd businessman with a fierce political mind, he's the iron backbone behind Fitz's unstoppable optimism and goodwill; the hard sell behind his charm. He would trust Cyrus with his entire enterprise - and with his life.

His phone rings when he's chatting to his secretary Charlotte, catching up on her news before they've even started on talking about work. "Excuse me a minute," Fitz says, seeing Olivia's name on the screen and trying to pretend his heart hasn't just skipped a beat. He goes into his office and closes the door.

"Hi, beautiful."

"Hi." He can hear the smile in her voice. "Sorry I missed your call earlier, it's been a really busy morning. What's up?"

"Nothing much. I just wanted to say that I miss you, and I can't wait to see you tonight."

There's a pause and he knows she's blushing. "I can't wait either," she confesses, her tone softer now. "This morning was… magical. I can't stop thinking about it."

"I can't stop thinking about you," he tells her, perching on the edge of his desk, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. "What are you doing now?"

"Just having a quick lunch. I've got another meeting in five minutes."

"Can I come?" he jokes, and she laughs.

"No, you'd be far too distracting."

"Livvie, you're no fun."

"I am. I'll be fun later, I promise."

He doesn't know whether her voice actually dropped or whether he just imagined it, but suddenly six o'clock seems far too far away. "What happens if I can't control myself tonight?" he asks, half seductive and half genuinely concerned.

But instead of being apprehensive, Olivia sounds thrilled by the idea. "Then you'll be in _big_ trouble, mister."

And they both know, in that moment, that he's going to flirt with her like crazy; to push the boundaries as far as she'll let him, because her threat of punishment sounds absolutely divine. "I like trouble," he murmurs, feeling himself getting aroused. "Especially when it's kinky."

"Who said anything about kinky?" she giggles. "You're quite presumptuous, Dr Grant."

"Really? I think you, Miss Pope, would be _very_ kinky given the chance." A hundred different possible scenarios are crossing his mind all at once. "Maybe tonight you should show me. You can tie me up, have you wicked way with me…"

"Maybe I will," she muses. "But right now, I have to go."

"No you don't."

"I do!"

Her sweet laughter conjures butterflies in his stomach. "Okay," he concedes with a smile. "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

"Wait! Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know… I can handle pain."

And then he ends the call as her shocked laughter fills his ear, chuckling to himself. Teasing her is so easy, and definitely up there among his new favorite activities. After the bittersweet feeling he's been carrying since visiting his house, the high she's just given him is even better today than usual. He basks in it as he answers a few emails and he's sure everyone he talks to is looking at him strangely, trying to work out what's made their boss so happy.

" _I've fallen in love with the most incredible woman,"_ he wants to tell each and every one of them. _"Do you know Olivia Pope? She's everything, and she's mine."_

After a debrief of the week's meetings with Cyrus and a promise to organize dinner together soon, Fitz leaves the office and walks to see his lawyer with a spring in his step. It's a glorious fall day and he smiles at everyone he passes, reveling in the hustle and bustle of New York City. He feels like he's looking at everything with new eyes, his mind wiped blank, leaving him awestruck and impressionable again. The law firm, Prince Kauffman King, is only two blocks away and he arrives too soon, wishing he had longer to stroll among the crowds and admire the magnificent architecture all around him.

His appointment doesn't take long: he provides his lawyer with all the documentation she's asked for including a copy of their prenuptial agreement, and explains that there are faults with both parties - they both committed adultery on the same day. If she's shocked by this, she doesn't show it. He asks how long the process will take and is surprised when she says eight to twelve weeks - and if Mellie tries to contest it (which he really hopes she won't), even longer.

"Divorcing a lawyer is not easy," she tells him ominously. "And your wife has quite a reputation in this city."

He knows this, of course. She didn't get to the top without pissing off a lot of people along the way. "Do you have any advice to hurry the process along?" he asks, trying not to sound desperate.

"Don't negotiate anything without me," she warns. "And if she tries to play games with you, don't respond. Just call me and I'll handle everything."

They both stand and Fitz shakes her hand. "Thank you, Miss King."

"My pleasure, Dr Grant. I'll schedule a meeting with your wife's lawyer and be in touch soon."

He leaves feeling slightly deflated. He'd thought it might take a month, maybe six weeks in total. But then again, twelve weeks is better than fifty-two, or even longer. He just prays that Mellie will be reasonable; that she will contain her vindictiveness when it comes to him. He wasn't a good husband but neither was she a good wife, and they both know it.

He's lost in thought and realizes he's wandered all the way to the banks of the Hudson River. He buys himself a coffee and then stops in a florist, selecting a beautiful bunch of flowers for Olivia. If it wasn't for her, he's certain he would still be in limbo right now, trying to decide whether to stay in his marriage or cut and run. Gifts will never be enough to show his immense gratitude to her but they're a start, and he wants to spoil her at every opportunity.

Plus, he can't pick her up for a date empty-handed: his wife might not be a lady, but he's nothing if not a gentleman.

* * *

It's six o'clock on the dot when he knocks on Olivia's door that evening, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. He's filled with so much excitement it's bubbling inside of him, his earlier disappointment at the lawyer's timeframe all-but forgotten. She answers within seconds and the very first thing he notices is the pink lipgloss on her smiling mouth: so delicious he can't help but kiss her as soon as he's crossed the threshold, setting down the flowers on her sideboard so he can cradle her face in his palms.

"Hi," he says a moment later, gazing down at her, trying to memorize every curve, every nuance of her face. Her makeup is flawless as usual, and although he thinks she's the most beautiful woman in the world when her skin is bare, the way she's highlighted her eyes and cheekbones makes her look absolutely radiant tonight.

She covers his hands with hers, her smile even wider now. "Hi."

They grin at one another for a minute, like the love-struck fools they are, until Fitz finally steps back to fully appraise her. She's wearing a white top, its straps thin, its neckline low and loose giving him a great view from his height - which he shamelessly takes advantage of. She's not coy, though: she lets him look, watching with a smirk as his gaze travels down over her silver and gold beaded miniskirt to her bare legs and five inch heels.

"Baby," he sighs, his voice gravelly, because she's just heaven and he's turned on already. "That's a very short skirt for dinner with a friend... almost indecent."

"Well," she says with a smirk, "He's a very special friend."

She twirls around but Fitz stops her halfway with his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. He brushes her curls to the side and presses a soft kiss to her neck, making her moan.

"You look incredible." A few more kisses and her body has gone utterly slack in his arms. "I can't believe I get to take you out tonight," he murmurs, slowly spinning her to face him again. Her dark eyes have glazed over with lust.

"Do we have to go out?"

"Yes." She looks so cute when she pouts that he rubs the tip of her nose with his. "It's a date; we're dating. I'm wooing you."

"Fitz, you don't need to. I'm already wooed."

Will he ever tire of hearing her say things like that? He very much doubts it. "Well, think of this as a bonus then. You get to spend even more time with the amazing guy who has successfully wooed you." She laughs, her body rising into his as she links her arms around his neck. "Are you ready to go?"

"Mmm," she says noncommittally, kissing him again instead. And god, she's so tempting as she playfully coaxes his tongue out to meet hers, humming contentedly into his mouth. The scent of her perfume surrounds him, taking him all the way back to the conference dinner when she first sat down beside him and held out her hand. From there to here in just under two weeks… It's insane.

"Livvie," he breathes, drawing away. "Stop."

"Why?" She raises her eyebrows and bites on her bottom lip, looking devilishly sexy.

"Because…" He turns them around and pins her against the door, pressing his erection into her belly and feeling her whole body shudder as she whimpers. "I have plans to woo you, and you _will_ let me. There will be time for this… later."

He kisses her lips, her throat, between her breasts and then lower, to her thighs as he pushes her skirt up. Her little white lacy thong is so fucking tantalizing and he licks her through it, grazing her clit with his teeth.

"Fitz!" she cries, her muscles tensing beneath his hands. "Oh my god!"

He stands again, smirking as he gazes down at her, slowly rubbing circles over her through her underwear with his fingers. This wasn't part of his plan but it's certainly going to increase the intensity of their date. "Sorry," he says, watching lustfully as desire flickers across her face. "I guess I'd better stop."

He withdraws from her, leaving her gasping for breath and looking at him like he's personally insulted her, which makes him laugh.

"You are such a tease Fitzgerald," she says exasperatedly, rearranging her skirt.

"I know, _Olivia_ ," he mocks. He picks up the bunch of flowers and hands them to her. "I brought these for you. Although if you don't want this to be a date, maybe I should take them back."

Her face softens and she holds out her hands for them. "They're beautiful, Fitz. Thank you." She inhales their scent and he just gazes at her, wondering if she could be any lovelier.

"You're welcome, gorgeous. Now, are you actually ready to go?"

"Almost. Do you want a quick tour first? I left too early this morning to give you one."

She takes his hand and leads him down the hallway, showing him the living room with adjoining kitchen where she puts her flowers into a vase of water, the guest bathroom and bedroom, and her room once again. The whole place is full of her, and obviously very well loved. He sits on her bed while she disappears into her walk-in closet to find a jacket, thinking how comfortable he feels. He can imagine them spending nights and weekends here cooking together, watching Netflix on her laptop tucked under the covers and having long bubble baths, their slippery bodies intertwined while they drink red wine and let the candles burn low.

When she returns wearing a black blazer, he wants to tell her about his fantasies but he can see in her eyes that she's had exactly the same ones too. "I love your place," he says instead as she crosses to her dresser and puts a few extra things into her purse.

"Thank you." She turns to him and holds out a strip of condoms. "Will we be needing these?"

"I don't know. Are you planning on seducing me in the restaurant? Because I know I said kinky, but it seems a little risky-"

Olivia laughs and rolls her eyes. "Not for the restaurant. Ew. I meant if we end up back at your place."

"I know what you meant." He stands and moves towards her, taking the condoms and tucking them into his inside pocket before wrapping his arms around her waist. "And yes, we will definitely be needing them."

"All of them?"

He grins. "Oh yes."

"I really need to make a doctor's appointment and get a prescription for the pill," she sighs. "I meant to do it this week but I kept forgetting. Usually I'd get Quinn to schedule it for me but I know she would start asking questions."

"That's okay," he says, because she sounds like she's apologizing and she really shouldn't be. "Now, shall we go?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

"Good." He leans down to kiss her, lingering as long as possible until she finally withdraws.

"Fitz don't, or we'll never leave."

"Sorry," he says with a sheepish smile. "I'm just not sure how I'm going to make it through the next few hours until I can kiss you again."

It's an honest statement, not premeditated, but it makes her dark eyes shine with emotion and if he wasn't already sure, he certainly is now: she has indeed been well and truly wooed.

* * *

Olivia sips her cocktail and tries not to stare at him too much, or put her hands all over him as she's so desperate to do. He's so sexy it's difficult for her to form coherent thoughts. She wants to be cool and collected but those smoking blue eyes are just constantly devouring her, taking off her clothes right here in the middle of the bar, and it's rendering her an absolute mess. Why did they think it would be possible to go on a date in public, to one of the most popular venues in New York City, with their raging, flammable chemistry? Why did he have to turn her on so thoroughly before they left her apartment, with his mouth and his fingers and those words which just melted her heart?

And why is his hand on her knee, his thumb stroking her bare skin beneath the table, making her shiver?

"Fitz," she admonishes, finally coming to her senses. She moves his hand and shifts away from him again, because no matter how often she does so they keep ending up close together. "Don't."

"Why not?" His eyes are bright with desire and all the fun that he's having. "No one's looking at us."

And it's true, tucked away as they are in the corner of the room, all the tables and most of the floor space packed with Friday night drinkers.

"I know, but still. There are probably some journalists here and everyone has their phones out. Someone might catch us in the back of one of their selfies."

He looks both skeptical and amused at the same time. "I doubt it, but okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I liked it," she admits with a smile.

"I could tell. You tensed up and your breathing changed."

"Did it?"

He smirks and she wants to kiss him so badly she has to grip onto the edge of the table to stop herself. "Yes. I can read you like a book, Livvie."

"Am I a good read?" she asks flirtatiously. If she met any of her friends out here tonight, they wouldn't recognize her.

"The best," he replies, and his deep voice is doing all kinds of things to her. "Endlessly fascinating; a very rare, very special edition. The kind of book you want to drown in. I just… I can't put you down."

He might be the most romantic man on the planet and here she is, unable to properly respond with anything other than her facial expressions. She hopes he can see exactly what that comment means to her; how much she loves him already, in ways she can't even begin to explain yet.

"Can you go and get me another drink please?"

He eyes her half-full Cosmopolitan. "Why?"

"Because if you don't leave right now, I'm going to jump on you and kiss you."

He sits perfectly still, smiling mischievously at her.

"Go!" she pleads, and when he still doesn't move she stands up herself.

"Liv, wait." He takes her arm and forces her to sit down again. "I'll go. It's okay. I know I'm irresistible."

"And annoying."

He squeezes her shoulder as he passes and leans down to whisper: "But mainly irresistible."

And she can't argue with him, because he's fucking gorgeous and he's absolutely right.

* * *

By the time she's finished her two cocktails and they're on their way to the restaurant, she's already feeling a little tipsy. She longs for him to put his arm around her waist, or to reach out and hold his hand, but the streets are busy and it's definitely not a good idea.

"We're here," Fitz says at length, drawing her from her daydreams. He leads her into the NoMad Hotel and through the lobby to the restaurant. She's heard rave reviews about this place but she's never eaten here before.

"Good evening," he says to the maître d'. "I have a reservation for Thomas Attaway at seven thirty."

"Certainly Sir. Come this way. Can I take your jackets?"

"Good code name," Olivia murmurs as they're seated at a small table near the back. The restaurant is already full and, thankfully, fairly noisy so they can continue to flirt to their hearts' content.

"What would yours be?" he asks, and she notices the way his gaze falls automatically down to the low cut of her top. If she said she hadn't chosen this outfit with that exact aim in mind, she would be lying.

"Carolyn Thomas."

Fitz blinks. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "My mom was Maya Thomas before she married my dad. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," he echoes. "I shouldn't be surprised, though. There are so many parallels in our lives."

"And that's why we're meant to be."

A waiter has arrived but Olivia's gaze remains locked on Fitz's as she takes the proffered menu; she's barely listening as the specials are recited. Fitz is usually the one who makes the big, bold statements but those words just came out and she's not embarrassed: she believes in them more than she's ever believed in anything else.

"Would you like to order any drinks?"

It takes several seconds for either of them to respond. "Can you just give us a few minutes please?" Fitz asks, finally breaking eye contact to smile briefly at the waiter.

"Of course."

He disappears and Fitz reaches for her hand. This time, she lets him touch her. "I think so too," he says, and he's quiet but so sincere. "We are meant to be, Livvie. I'm sure of it."

She links her fingers through his and squeezes gently before letting go. "Good, because you're not getting rid of me. Ever."

His smile mirrors hers. "Good, because I won't ever want to."

Not for the first time, she wants to tell him something else: something she really shouldn't be feeling yet, after just two weeks. She's never been a romantic; never believed in fairytales or love at first sight. But here she is, head-over-heels for this man who she can't even date in public, who can't commit to her because he's already legally committed to someone else. All the facts are telling her they're not ready for more but she doesn't care: every cell in her body knows how she really feels.

She loves him.

She _loves_ him.

And that's the hugest, scariest secret she's ever had to keep, because she can't bring herself to say it just yet. There's a big difference between feeling something and actually admitting it out loud.

"Shall we order wine?" Fitz asks after a minute, looking at her with a patient smile as she sorts through her emotions. He's so _good_ to her, it makes her want to cry.

"Yeah," she breathes, blinking back tears and hoping he hasn't noticed (while knowing he has, because he notices everything). "Red?"

"Of course. Your choice."

They peruse the menu and decide on food before she picks an accompanying wine. Fitz lets her order for them both and she's so full of affection for him she doesn't even mind when his leg deliberately brushes against hers beneath the table.

"This is the best date," she tells him honestly, unable to stop herself from saying it so early in the evening.

"It's barely begun," Fitz counters, giving her his most charming smile. "We haven't even eaten yet, and then there's dessert, and dancing…"

"Really?"

"If you want to."

What she really wants it to get him alone and naked, and they both know it. She shrugs, playing coy. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm not that interested if you're not. I can't dance, as you know. In fact," he leans forward, "maybe I should make it my mission to convince you we _shouldn't_ go out afterwards."

"And how will you do that?"

He grins at her. "Oh, I can be very persuasive."

Forty minutes later they've just finished their main courses and Olivia is so wound up she feels like she's vibrating in her seat. If the way Fitz was staring at her earlier made her hot, now she's positively _burning_ for him. Somehow he managed to lead her into a conversation about what turns her on and it's driven them both towards the edge.

"So to recap," he says huskily, "You want me in sweat pants and a wet t-shirt, my hair messed up, smelling of Hugo Boss and a freshly smoked cigarette with the taste of whiskey on my tongue and looking at you like I suspect I am right now."

"Well, you or any other man," she teases, trying to ignore the image he's created, a summary of everything he's coaxed out of her so far, and the way it stokes the fire deep in her belly.

"And the location of this wild encounter?"

She considers him, sipping her wine. "Don't laugh."

"I wouldn't."

His leg is pressed against hers again and she's longing for more. "In the dark… somewhere outside. Like, an alleyway, but a clean one. Safe." She pauses, trying to gauge his reaction. "Does that sound weird?"

"No." And she believes him, because his eyes are ablaze.

"I just think it would be really sexy to be taken somewhere dark and ravaged against a wall. By you."

"Or any other man," he adds, smirking.

"Well, not _any_ man. I do have some standards."

"Of course."

"What about you?" she asks, nudging his knee with hers. "What turns you on, Fitzy?"

"You," he says without pausing. "How funny and how smart you are. The way you look at me from beneath your eyelashes; when you throw your head back and laugh. White underwear on your beautiful skin, and the way it highlights all your curves. Your taste… even the thought of it. How you feel wrapped around me when I'm bare inside of you."

Olivia is stunned by the clarity of his answer, like he's thought about it a lot - which he probably has, knowing him as she does. "Oh my god," she breathes. "Can we go home now?"

The waiter appears to clear away their plates and they both take a moment to try and collect themselves. She has a drink of her water and then presses the glass to her warm cheeks.

"Would you like any desserts?"

"No," she says as Fitz answers:

"Yes."

"We'll look at the menu, please," he clarifies. He sits forward as the waiter leaves and briefly covers her hand with his. "I want to take you home so badly, but I also don't want this date to end yet. And it is only eight thirty."

"Really?" She glances at his watch and then smiles shyly. "Okay. That's definitely too early. We're too young to be at home before nine on a Friday night."

"Did you just call me young?"

"Yes," she grins. "You're only as old as-"

"-As the woman you feel," he finishes, making her giggle.

"I've never heard that one before."

"You haven't been hanging out with the right people, that's why."

She loves their flirtatious banter. "Who're the right people?

"Me."

And now she's laughing again, tilting her face to the ceiling. "Oh, Fitz, you're ridiculous."

"I know."

She would give almost anything right now to be able to lean across the table and kiss the adorable smile off of his face - and she tells him so.

"I want to do more than kiss you," he responds, his eyes trailing down her body, lingering over her bare chest and the curves of her breasts. He doesn't need to elaborate: she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"I want you to." She lets her own gaze wander over the muscles lying just beneath his tight white shirt, wishing she could run her hands over them.

"Later, sweet baby."

She meets his fiery blue eyes again. "Okay. But not too much later."

They smile at one another. "Deal."

* * *

They move to one of the hotel's bars after dessert, a stunning venue with an incredibly long mahogany bar, the wall behind filled floor-to-ceiling with bottles of wine and spirits. The furniture is all antique, the lighting subtle with flickering candles on the low tables. There's some quiet jazz playing in the background and as they sit down next to each other on one of the sofas, Olivia thinks he couldn't have picked a more romantic place to bring her tonight.

Fitz has bought himself a whiskey and she's elected to finish the last of their red from dinner. She's feeling warm, cozy and pleasantly buzzed, but not enough to make her reckless - he can do that all on his own. There's less than a foot between them and the heat of his body is radiating across the space, caressing her bare arm and thigh. She crosses her legs, noticing his gaze following her every movement.

"You are so beautiful," he says softly. "I could sit here and watch you forever."

She's so flattered she can't speak straight away, so she lets the blush on her cheeks and her smile show him how she feels. "You'd get bored," she murmurs eventually.

"Never."

His teeth are so white, so perfectly straight in his gorgeous smile.

"Who made you?" she wonders aloud, making him frown and look amused at the same time.

"My parents, as far as I know."

"Well, they did a good job. You are beyond handsome."

He turns towards her, resting his arm along the back of the sofa so his hand is just behind her neck. "You're beyond cute, sometimes."

She feels his fingers gently touching her hair and has to resist the urge to curl herself into his chest and let him fold her into his embrace. "It's my birthday next Saturday," she tells him, her voice quiet. "I'm going out for dinner with some friends in the evening. Would you like to come too?"

His expression changes and she immediately takes that as a no. Why would he want to hang out with a bunch of mid-twenty-year-olds? But, as usual, he's quick to assure her otherwise.

"I'm not here next weekend, Livvie," he says, lifting her chin with his finger to make her look at him again. "I'm visiting my dad. It's an annual event and I'm expected to be there. Don't you _dare_ think it's because I don't want to."

And she has to smile despite her disappointment, because yet again he's read her so easily. "Okay."

"I would love to celebrate your birthday with you. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine. We can do something another day."

"Definitely. I promise I'll make it up to you."

She shakes her head. "Really, Fitz, you don't have to. We have only known each other two weeks."

"Yes, but we _know_ each other," he argues, still smiling. "You know things about me which no one else does. And I know things about you, too. All kinds of secrets."

"Like what?" she asks, leaning towards him as she feels herself falling even deeper in love with him.

"Like where to kiss you to make you melt beneath me. How to take your breath away. How to make you come apart, over and over again."

He's not lying - he is an expert in all those things, far more so than any man she's ever been with before - and suddenly the entire evening catches up with her all at once. She's aware that there are people all around them but she can't stop herself from running the tips of her fingers over his abs, hoping they're hidden in the dim light. "Take me home, Fitz," she whispers. Her mouth isn't far from his now, drawn together by the familiar, invisible force which constantly surrounds them.

"It's only nine thirty."

"I don't care."

He considers her for the briefest second before sitting forward and downing the last of his scotch. "You do realize this means I win, right?" he says as he stands up, offering her his hand. "We're going home instead of dancing."

"Again, I don't care."

Fitz looks surprised at her tone but she can't explain or apologize - she's just so desperate to wrap her arms around his body and feel his hardness and his heat pressed up against her. She leads them outside, hyperaware of his presence just inches behind her.

"I suppose we're going wherever is nearest?" he says with a smirk. "Which would be mine, I think."

"Yes. I take it your friend is away?"

"He sure is."

She hails a cab almost immediately. "Good. Then let's go."

* * *

Fitz manages to get her into Henry's house before the kissing starts and once it does, it doesn't stop. He leads her into the darkness, in the vague direction of the kitchen; their progress is slow because she's walking backwards and they're so tightly entwined it's difficult to take very big steps. He manages to switch on the under-cabinet lights as they pass and they rid each other of their jackets, dropping them carelessly to the floor. They continue on until her back hits the kitchen counter and he holds her there, exploring every corner of her sweet mouth. He's patient, despite everything that's happened this evening; despite the fire which is burning inside of him, urging him to consume her. They have all the time in the world and he wants to take it slow tonight, to really worship her as she deserves.

His hands drop to her thighs and he pushes up her skirt until he can lift her onto the counter. Her legs immediately wrap around his waist, bringing her core into direct contact with his straining erection, causing a surge of heat in his blood. Her breath caresses his lips as she moans and her hands grab his ass, urging him even closer.

"Want you," she murmurs, grinding her hips torturously against him.

His own hands increase their grip on her ribcage, the tips of his fingers caressing her bare skin where it meets the material of her top. She's so soft, so delicate, so perfect. His thumbs brush over her nipples, hard beneath her clothes, and she trembles in his arms. He unfastens her strapless bra and they break apart for a second as he removes it, throwing it onto the tiles.

"Fitz," she says, breathing hard, her eyes hazy with desire.

"Yes?"

He watches as she slides one strap of her top down her arm and off, followed by the other. The loose material immediately drops to her waist, leaving her bare and heavenly before him.

"Oh baby," he groans. He can't help but drop his head and take her right nipple into his mouth, sucking on her tender flesh, making her cry out and grab onto his hair. He plays with her other breast too, swirling his tongue over her until he can't wait any longer: he has to trail his lips lower, unable to resist the call of the haven between her thighs.

He's almost there when she stops him, tugging on his curls. "Not here," she says, panting. "Not in your friend's kitchen. In fact I think you should call him, make sure it's okay for me to stay over."

Fitz stands upright again, looking at her in disbelief. In less than five seconds he's gone from almost having her in his mouth to suddenly needing permission to continue. "Seriously?"

She lifts up her top, covering herself again, and nods. She's smiling but she looks determined. "Mm hmm."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "This is ridiculous. He won't mind."

"Well, I'd like to know if my friend was going to fuck someone in my house."

"What if he doesn't answer?" Fitz is trying to remember where Henry is at the moment - Bolivia, maybe? - but it's difficult with the lower half of Olivia's body still pressed firmly against his.

She considers him for a moment, assessing their current situation. "Then at least you can say you tried," she concludes, and he knows he doesn't have any other choice in the matter.

Henry answers on the third ring and it's one of the most bizarre conversations Fitz has ever had. "Hey buddy. How are you?" He continues on before his friend really has chance to answer, hoping to make this as short as possible. "Listen, quick question. How do you feel about sleepovers?"

He's watching Olivia as he speaks: she's smirking, clearly amused by how uncomfortable he is.

"Are we there already?" Henry asks, knowing instantly what he's referring to.

"We are."

"Good for you, man. And it depends: is she pretty?"

Fitz smiles. "Very."

"Let me say hi." His friend has always been the ultimate charmer.

He puts his phone on speaker and introduces them. "This is Olivia. Olivia, Henry."

"Hey, Henry. Nice to… meet you."

"Hey Olivia, you too. Well, she _sounds_ pretty."

This makes her giggle and Fitz frowns as he returns the phone to his ear again. "Enough of that," he says sternly but Henry only laughs. Meanwhile Olivia, knowing they have the landlord's consent to carry on, lets her top fall down again and begins to unbutton his shirt.

"I have to go," he says hoarsely, his gaze fixated on her bare breasts.

"I'm sure you do. Just keep your dirty stuff out of my bed, okay?"

"Of course."

He drops his phone onto the counter and lifts her into his arms, making her squeal. "You are a _very_ naughty girl."

"Am I?" She's playing coy and it's making him crazy.

"You are. It makes me want to bend you over and fuck you - hard."

She kisses him so fiercely that he has to stand still so he doesn't lose his balance. "Fuck me then," she says against his lips. "Now."

He remembers to grab the condoms from his jacket pocket before he carries her upstairs to his room, setting her down on the bed and switching on the lamp. She's gazing up at him with so much longing that he strips off his clothes straight away and kneels on the floor in front of her to remove her heels. Then he slides his hands over the silky smooth skin of her bare legs, all the way to her skirt which she helps him unzip at the back. She lifts her hips so he can pull it off along with her thong and her top, and no matter how many times he's seen her naked body, she continues to takes his breath away.

Their eyes finally meet and Olivia reaches for him, lifting his face to hers, entangling their tongues once again. He rises, laying her back on the mattress and then beginning to kiss his way downwards. This time when he gets to her center there are no distractions and he pushes her thighs apart so he can finally taste her, burying his tongue in her with a helpless groan. She writhes beneath him as he licks her, her sounds filling the air all around them. She's sweet and salty and so unbelievably wet for him, and he's not sure how much longer he can wait to fuck her.

"Fitz," she gasps, her toes curling into his back where her legs are draped over his shoulders. "Don't stop. I'm so- so close."

He lifts his hands to her breasts, alternately kneading them and rolling her nipples between his fingers, and it's not long before she's shaking and swearing and…

"Oh my- fuck- oh god!"

She's so loud as she comes and he loves hearing her let go, embracing her pleasure. He places several kisses on her lower abdomen, humming against her skin before he moves away to put on a condom, giving her a moment to recover.

"You okay?" he asks, smiling down at her, because she's struggling to open her eyes.

"Yeah," she sighs, her hand resting on her chest; he watches as it rises and falls with every breath she takes. " _So_ good."

"Good."

Fitz sits with his back against the headboard and waits until she's ready to come to him, which doesn't take long at all. She crawls up the bed and he holds her waist as she straddles him, sinking straight down onto his cock. The way she feels around him… it just gets better every single time. They share a smile and she shifts her position slightly, taking him in even further. She kisses him and runs her fingers through his hair as his travel up and down her spine, leaving shivers in their wake.

"Look," he says, gesturing to the built-in mirrored wardrobes on his right, her left. Their gazes meet in the glass and he sees hers run over their reflection. "I love your skin, Livvie. It's so beautiful."

"Thank you." They both watch as his hands continue to caress her, such a striking contrast in color between them. "We look good together, don't we?" she asks.

"We look _great_ ," he clarifies.

They turn back to face each other again and her lips curve into a smile as she begins to move above him. She takes her time, riding him slowly, alternating between grazing her breasts against his chest and leaning down to press her mouth to his. Fitz holds onto her hips and lets her take him all the way to the edge, every so often allowing his gaze wander back to the mirror. Watching them together is so sexy, especially when she starts to go faster, to whisper to him that she wants him to come for her. With all the simmering tension of the evening and the fact he's absolutely infatuated with her, he gladly obliges just minutes later.

She holds him as he calms, kissing his ear, his cheek. "I'd like to add mirrors to my list of turn-ons," she murmurs, giggling, and he feels his rumbling laughter vibrate through his body and into hers.

"Me too."

He looks at her for the longest moment, overcome with love for her. He's been so close to telling her several times recently, but he's managed to hold his tongue. It's a scary thing to admit, although he suspects she would say it back just as readily. He never thought it was possible to fall in love so fast, to feel so _sure_ \- but then again, he'd never met Olivia Pope before, the one girl he knows he is destined to be with.

"You are amazing," he tells her instead, hoping to convey all his affection for her into that one adjective when really, he could use a hundred and never come close to describing how perfect she is.

"So are you," she replies, her voice full of emotion, and he knows she's understood what he's really trying to say; that she's saying it straight back.

Fitz kisses her then, their eyes open as they share every single piece of themselves. He knows all her secrets and she knows all of his. He knows what turns her on and so does she.

Most importantly of all, he knows they're meant to be - and that he'll continue to fall in love with her over and over again, every day for the rest of their lives.


	13. Am I Interrupting Something?

**A/N: I'm back (finally). I'm so sorry it's been so long - I got married, traveled back to the UK, honeymooned in Bali, had a lot of work stuff going on. But I'm so appreciative of your ongoing support - the reviews and messages you've been leaving have really spurred me on to finish this chapter. I hope after all this time that you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13 - Am I Interrupting Something?**

It's just past ten o'clock on Saturday when Olivia wanders downstairs to find Fitz in the kitchen, humming along to the radio as he cooks breakfast. She doesn't know what's making her mouth water more: the smell of bacon or the sight of him in a tight white polo shirt and navy shorts, the muscles of his back rippling as he carefully breaks eggs into a pan of hot water for poaching.

"Hi," she says eventually, unable to keep her presence a secret any longer.

She rounds the table, already set for two, and her heart skips a beat when he turns and gives her his most gorgeous smile.

"Good morning, baby." He wipes his hands on a cloth and then draws her into his arms, kissing her lips.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," she protests, pulling away.

"I don't care," he says with a grin. How is he, at forty years old, so damn _cute_?

"Well, I do."

But he's not listening: his gaze is roaming down her body, over the faded Columbia t-shirt she picked out of his drawer which falls to her bare thighs. The blue material has gotten soft with age and it smells just as delicious as he does.

"This is sexy," he comments, his hands tracing the curves of her waist and hips.

"Oh, this old thing?" She tilts her head to the side and smiles coyly at him as he draws her closer, a low sound of appreciation emanating from his throat. Seconds later, she realizes she can smell burning. "Fitz, I think the bacon-"

"Shit." He quickly turns and takes the pan off the stove, examining the meat. "I hope you like it crispy."

"Is there any other way to eat bacon?"

He grins and kisses her forehead. "That's my girl."

He finishes off the eggs while she makes them both toast. There's already a pot of coffee on the table but it looks and smells so strong that she declines in favor of tea.

"Did you go out this morning to buy all this?" Olivia asks as they sit down to eat.

"Yeah, I stopped by the store on my way home from the gym."

She raises her eyebrows. "Impressive. You should have woken me; I could use a work out."

"You were sleeping like the dead," he smiles fondly. "You clearly needed it."

"I think I did. I've been so tired this week, and that bed is _so_ comfortable."

"I know, right? One of the reasons I'm loathe to move out."

"Mm, great eggs," she says, finishing her first mouthful. "I'm so glad you can cook."

"Me too - one of us has to feed us."

"Nah, that's what take out is for." She mirrors Fitz's grin, crinkling her nose. "So, are you gonna look for somewhere else to live soon?"

"I don't know. I suppose I should, but Henry doesn't mind me staying here. In fact, I think he likes having someone to keep an eye on the house. I might just wait until the divorce is settled and we can sell our place," he shrugs. "There's no rush, especially as it might take a while now."

They briefly discussed his meeting with the lawyer over dinner last night and her heart sinks again when she remembers that she might not be able to have him for several months yet. "Can I ask something?"

Fitz smiles as he sips his coffee. "You know you can. Stop asking permission to ask me questions."

"Sorry."

"I forgive you."

She pokes out her tongue at him before sobering. "I was just wondering - do you think she _will_ make it difficult?"

She can't say his wife's name - that's his, and his alone; part of his life she'll never know.

"I don't know. She might." He looks wary, perhaps of saying too much; of inviting The Other Woman to come and sit between them, right here in the kitchen.

"But why? What's in it for her?"

Olivia wonders whether she should be vocalizing these thoughts, inquiring into something that's absolutely none of her business (even if her happiness is already inextricably linked to the outcome). But this is Fitz, so open and honest, and as usual he doesn't seem to mind.

"I have no idea. She can be irrational, unpredictable… Jealous." He looks a little concerned by that last thought but, after a moment, seems to brush it aside. "She sounded fine when we spoke last week. She's not stupid, she knew it was coming. I don't think she'll be a problem. Now," he continues, changing the tone completely. "As soon as we're finished here, I'll drive you home so you can shower and change, and then we'll head out for the day."

She frowns at him. "I really hate when you don't tell me where we're going."

"I know," he smirks, "But I keep on doing it because you're so adorable when you're being petulant."

"But I don't know what to wear, what to bring!"

He considers her. "I'll let you have that information on the way to your apartment." Then he laughs. "Stop pouting at me and eat, Livvie. Otherwise we'll never leave and you'll never find out what I have planned."

* * *

Olivia dresses in her clothes from the night before, wishing she'd thought to bring something a lot less conspicuous to travel home in the next day. It's very unlikely she'll be spotted in Fitz's car, but still: being caught dressed like this on a Saturday morning can only mean one thing, and it would be a disaster if her 'walk of shame' was broadcast across the internet. Next time she'll have to have a much more thorough plan. She washes her face, finds a new toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink and cleans her teeth before descending the stairs into the hall, where she catches the end of Fitz's phone conversation.

"Can I take her out today?... Hey, I always treat her well!... Yeah I'll have her back by four buddy, no problem. Thanks, see you."

"Um… What was _that_ about?" she asks, too intrigued to pay much attention to the way his gaze roams blatantly over her body.

"Nothing," he says with a grin. "Ready to go?"

"Fitz!" God, he's so infuriating sometimes. "Who are we taking out?"

"Nobody."

"But-!"

"Olivia." He steps towards her and takes hold of her shoulders, leaning down until his nose is just inches from hers. This close, his eyes are impossibly blue and his scent overwhelms her. "I retract my earlier statement: stop asking questions. Just _trust_ _me_."

A smile catches the corners of her lips, even as she tries to resist it. "Why?" she asks softly. "What are you gonna do to me?"

The scene changes: suddenly they're pressed up against one another in a crowded whiskey bar in London and he's the stranger who's about to make a promise which will change every single moment of her life to come.

"Everything," Fitz says, his voice suddenly husky as he too revisits that evening: the noise, the people, the enclosing heat; the uncontainable desire, burning wild and fighting to be unleashed; the impending sense of inevitability - of destiny.

Olivia's eyes fall closed and she's there, and the feelings are all real, all over again.

 _I love you_.

She didn't know it then, but she suspected - and her gut is seldom wrong.

She bites on her bottom lip as her body rises into his, as they wrap their arms around one another. She can feel his breathing: heavy in his chest, warm on her skin. Sometimes, he _consumes_ her. There's nothing else in the world: no hallway, no day trip, no divorce. There's no concept of time except the time between kisses, when she'll miss his lips even as she's desperately dragging air into her screaming lungs. There's no place except where he puts his hands, his warm, ravenous mouth.

They turn and climb the stairs without a word; sink down onto the bed in silence, like the oldest of lovers. Fitz kisses and touches her so tenderly it almost makes her cry, her heart beating hard with arousal and emotion. He's everywhere, surrounding her with his body, enclosing her in his embrace as they move together, fast and slow and everything in between. He's overwhelmed too, she can see it in his eyes - overwhelmed by _them_ ; by their power. Is there a greater force in the universe right now than the one which is binding them together? Is this what happens when two souls try to climb inside one another? Laws bend and break; the air crackles and threatens to rip apart, atom from atom?

 _No,_ she thinks as she gazes into him and they begin to let go, as one. _This is just love._

Just love. Miraculous, common. Rare, every-day. Inexplicable. Unquenchable. Forever.

She can barely breathe afterwards, totally overcome. Her body is still on fire, surging with electricity; her mind hazy and slow as she tries to comprehend the enormity of her feelings.

"Did you feel that?" Fitz murmurs, his lips just next to her ear where he's come to rest, half on top of her. She thinks the tears on her cheeks might have leaked onto his and she doesn't even care: just one more piece of herself, shared with him.

"Yes." She turns to face him, her bare, slick skin peeling away from his. She's never seen him look so open, so vulnerable before.

He swallows. "Olivia, I-"

"Don't." She quiets him, her fingerprint on his lips, her heart racing. "Not yet."

It's still too soon. Those words are irretrievable, once said aloud. What kind of pressure would they put on their fledgling relationship? As much as this whirlwind romance has brought out qualities she wasn't sure she still possessed - her sense of fun, of adventure, of _recklessness_ \- she's fragile, underneath it all. She's still the twelve-year-old girl who lost her mother one cold, dark November night; who grew up with a father who didn't seem to know how to love her by himself. She's still the young woman who was so desperate to be in love she didn't realize the kind of man she'd chosen to fall for until she was so deep she almost couldn't escape.

Love is dangerous - she's known this for a long time; learnt it far sooner than anyone should. Loving Fitz is most dangerous of all because she can't bear to be broken again, and because she only gets one chance to do it right. He's her soulmate, her One: it's either him or a life alone. And she won't let her past, her failures, ruin this for her. She _can't._

So this needs to go slow. She can't deny that she's already fallen in love with him but she can give herself time to let that settle inside of her, to fill all the holes she's been trying to cover over for too many years. It's already happening: she's already started to heal. Fitz's love has been pouring into her ever since their time in London and it's the sweetest balm, like liquid gold which warms her from head to toe. She wonders if he knows that's what it feels like, being with him. She wonders if he realizes that inside his beautiful, human body is a magic which is far beyond the explanations of biology and chemistry.

She will tell him, one day, when she's brave and strong enough. But not today, when it's all too big for her to wrap her head around. Not today, when she's so full of feeling and so empty of words.

Not today, when she's _scared_.

"I'm going to shower," she says, and her voice seems so discordant in the calmness of the room.

Confusion clouds his expression. "Livvie, don't-"

He reaches for her but she's already gone.

* * *

Fitz lies still for a few minutes, staring at the door through which he's just watched her leave. No, leave is the wrong word - she _fled_ , like a frightened animal. And actually, he's not surprised.

What just happened between them was _insane_ , and he seems to be using that word a lot to describe them but it's never been truer. One minute they're joking in the hallway and the next, they're making love like he's never known before, intertwined in ways far beyond the physical. Something takes over them in moments like those: the most powerful combination of lust, love and total surrender. There's nothing but her, and him, and _them_. They are one, in every possible way.

And it _is_ scary. They're moving at a million miles an hour with barely any time to process what's happening, what they're feeling and what it all means. And she's delicate, he knows that. She's carrying around scars which she hasn't completely dealt with yet; scars which he hopes she will let him help her heal, one day.

He gives her a little while longer and then follows her to the bathroom, cleaning up and disposing of the condom before entering the shower behind her. She turns to him straight away, her expression a mixture of relief and remorse as tears and water droplets race each other down her face. She's the most beautiful mess he's ever seen.

"Hi," he says softly, taking her hands as he steps into the spray.

"Hi," she breathes. And then: "I don't know why I'm crying."

She laughs and sobs at the same time. Fitz folds her into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby."

"What for?" she mumbles, her fingers tense on his lower back as she fights against herself.

"For making you cry in the shower."

She looks up at him and manages another laugh - his favorite sound in the world. "This isn't your fault. I'm just…"

"…Overwhelmed."

"Yes."

He holds her gaze for a moment, letting her know he understands, before reaching for his body wash. "Turn around."

"I'll smell like you."

"Consider yourself lucky."

She giggles as he begins to soap up her neck and shoulders. She's tied her hair up in a bun, keeping it out of the water and it's a shame, because he really does love her curls.

"We're going too fast," Fitz states, working his hands over the muscles of her upper back. "I don't know how to slow us down, but I'm going to try. I can't see you upset, Livvie. It kills me."

"I'm sorry." She tries to turn and face him again but he won't let her.

"Don't be sorry, that's ridiculous. You feel what you feel. And you feel scared right now, and quite right too. I'm scared as well." He hopes hearing that will make her feel a little bit better. "Fear isn't a weakness. Fear of failure is what makes us succeed."

She's silent for a while except for the occasional moan when he massages away any knots he comes across. "We only have once chance at this," she says eventually, her voice small but determined. "We _have_ to succeed."

"I know."

"You mean everything to me," she admits quietly, and at this he does let her spin around towards him. She's smiling, her dark eyes no longer wet but shining with affection, with hope. He would do _anything_ to protect her - this fragile, perfect soul.

He draws her against him and kisses her, soft and sweet. Their mouths linger together for a long time, sharing secrets and all the things they can't say aloud.

"We have time," he tells her at length, and it's a promise. "Time to just be, together. Time to make sense of our feelings. Time to talk, whenever you want to. Just let me know when you're ready and I'll be there. Okay?"

She looks like she can finally breathe easily again. "Okay. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." He smiles, touching her nose with his. "Now, do you still want to go out? I can drop you at home if you'd rather be alone, or we could do something else?"

"No, I'd like to go. This can be our… what number date is this?"

He chuckles as he begins to wash himself. "I don't know. But good idea - let's call it a date. No strings attached."

"Fitz, there are strings," she admonishes, smiling. "Let's not deny that. I don't want to erase these last two weeks - far from it."

It's so good to hear her say that out loud. "Okay."

"So, who are we taking out?"

She almost, _almost_ , catches him."My- No. I'm not telling you."

"I won't go if you don't."

He blinks, quickly realizing that she's serious as she frowns at him with her arms crossed over her chest - a picture of stubbornness. "Fine," he sighs. "My friend has a pet ferret and we're taking her for a walk."

The expression which takes over her features - a mixture of surprise, incredulity and suspicion - is worth the lie. "You don't expect me to believe _that_ , do you?"

"Why ever not?" he teases, feigning offence. "It's the truth."

"No it isn't."

"So you're calling me a liar?"

"I think I am."

They grin at one another, challenging. He steps towards her, out of the cascade of water, backing her into the wall. "What are you doing?" she asks apprehensively, eyeing him up and down. But before she can even think about defending herself he's tickling her, his fingers dancing over her waist, making her scream and fight him as he forces uncontrollable laughter out of her.

"Stop! Please, Fitz!"

He's much stronger than she is, easily holding her slippery body in place. "Take it back."

"No!"

His hands move faster and he can't deny that having her writhing against him like this, naked and wet, is very arousing.

"Okay," she concedes, breathless, seconds later. "I take it back! Please stop!"

He ceases immediately, supporting her as she recovers. "How did you know I'm ticklish?" she pants.

"I didn't," he smirks. "But I do now."

He turns and exits the shower, taking a cloud of steam with him. "You're still a liar," she calls.

"And you're still coming with me, because you're _desperate_ to know what we're doing."

Silence.

He writes _'I win'_ in the condensation on the mirror as he passes, beside a smiley face.

* * *

A short while later, Fitz pulls up around the corner from her building and Olivia manages to make it inside without seeing another soul. It's a lovely sunny day and she quickly changes into a white summer dress and navy blue blazer. She keeps her hair in its bun - it's frizzy from the heat of the shower and there's no time for her to do anything else with it this morning. She's rummaging in her bathroom cabinet for a new can of deodorant when she finds a box of Micronor, the contraceptive pill she used to take - and there's more than a strip inside. She checks the label and it's still in date. There must be enough here for around five weeks, which will mean she doesn't have to rush to see her doctor so soon...

She climbs back into Henry's car shortly afterwards (as Fitz's is full of his belongings), smiling to herself. In forty-eight hours she's going to surprise her man with the fact that, from then on, they can have sex without the inconvenience of condoms. She knows he can sense she's pleased about something because every so often he looks over at her, a slight frown on his handsome face.

"Eyes on the road, Grant," she teases each time, squeezing his thigh.

It's almost one o'clock when they reach Long Island and the sun is high in the vast expanse of blue sky above them. Fitz pulls into the parking lot of an impressively picturesque yacht club and she finally understands just who it is they're taking out today.

"She's a boat."

He grins at her. "She is."

"Your boat?"

"Kind of. You'll see, come on."

It's warm outside and Fitz leads her on a stroll around the busy marina, saying hi to several people as they walk past. They don't hold hands: it might be a date to them, but to everyone else around they're just here as friends. They pass some truly enormous, ultra-luxurious yachts; of course Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III belongs to one of the most exclusive clubs in the state.

He stops beside a medium-sized yacht, running his fingers over the paintwork which reads _The Georgiana_. "This… is my baby."

Olivia feels her mouth fall open. She tries to take it all in: the shimmering white hull, the large cabin, the huge mast which disappears directly into the sun. "Wow."

It's all she can say.

"Want to come aboard?"

" _Yes."_

He smiles, clearly happy that he's managed to render her speechless, and she follows him onto the polished deck. "Doesn't she get wet when it rains?" she asks, the first thing that pops into her head.

"She's usually covered up but she was taken out this morning. I rent her out," he explains. "I can't sail as often as I'd like to and it's a shame to leave her sitting here."

Fitz unlocks the cabin door with a set of keys from his pocket and leads her inside. Down a couple of steps is a kitchen-come-living area with doors leading off the far end. "There are three bedrooms and she can sleep eight if the sofa is converted."

Olivia wanders around, drawing her fingertips over the marble kitchen worktops, the exquisite furnishings. "This is beautiful."

"Thank you." His deep voice is right behind her and she turns into his waiting embrace. He leans down and kisses her tenderly, taking his time. She doesn't think she'll ever get enough of the sweet, masculine way he tastes. "I hate not being able to do that in public," he says when they finally break apart.

"Me too."

They share a wistful smile before Fitz speaks again. "Shall we get out on the water?"

Even though she's never sailed before, Olivia has no idea how he plans to take this yacht out by himself. Her thoughts clearly show on her face because he clarifies: "We're not sailing her. Not today. She needs a crew of at least four and the wind conditions aren't ideal right now."

"Oh. So…?"

"We're taking another boat. I'll show you."

Fitz locks the cabin door behind him and they climb back onto the marina boardwalk. "Who is Georgiana?" she asks as they pass the bow, where the dark blue letters glint in the sun.

"She was my grandfather's mother; my great-grandmother. This was his yacht. He left it to me when he died six years ago."

"I'm so sorry." She really wants to take his hand and squeeze it but manages to resist. "Was he your mom's father?"

"No, my dad's."

"Oh. He didn't leave it to your dad, then?"

Fitz smiles. "No. My grandpa taught me to sail when I was a child. My father learned when he was young, too, but he never came out with us. When I was growing up, he was always more interested in… How can I put this? Screwing whores."

Olivia feels the shock of his words run right through her. "What?"

He shrugs, still smiling although there's definitely sadness in his eyes now. "It's true. He always had a mistress. It destroyed my mother."

"Fitz, I-"

"It's okay. You don't need to say anything." Good, because she has no idea what to say. "It is what it is. One of the many reasons my grandfather left everything to me, and not to his only son. His house and several other properties, his shares and investments… He was a very successful man."

"It runs in the family, then."

Her comment flatters him, she can tell. "Maybe. The main thing is, I think it's all safe in the divorce. His will is very specific about that. He never did warm to Mellie…" He trails off. Olivia tries to ignore the way the mention of his wife makes her feel.

"Georgiana is a beautiful name," she says, changing the subject.

"It is, isn't it? She was French. So I guess that makes me…" She can see him trying to do the calculation.

"One eighth French," she offers.

"So smart, Livvie," he grins. "Math has never been my strong point."

They've walked across to the other side of the marina and he stops beside a sleek-looking powerboat. Together they unfasten and remove the cover, storing it beneath the white leather sofa which curves around the stern end of the deck. Everything on board looks pristine; brand new.

"Is this yours as well?" she asks, following him into the cabin and trying to keep the awestruck tone out of her voice. She knew he had money but she never expected him to own two luxury boats.

Fitz gestures for her to sit in the captain's chair. "I part-own her, with three friends. We bought her last summer."

"So you were speaking to one of them on the phone this morning?"

"Yeah, that was Jon. Cyrus doesn't own a license so he never comes out by himself and Kim is on vacation. Jon's hosting a small get-together onboard tonight so we just need to have her back by four."

"And me, so I can get ready for this evening."

"And you, so you can become the belle of the ball. Not that that requires much work."

She looks up at him and smiles, crinkling her nose. "You say the sweetest things, Fitzy. But it's an awards ceremony, not a ball."

"Same difference. If there's a red carpet, loads of famous faces and live TV coverage, it's a big deal."

Olivia shrugs. She used to get nervous in the build up to such events but now she just enjoys them, having learned exactly how to pose, where to smile and who to give interviews to. She's particularly excited for tonight because it's a celebration of women of color in business and industry, several of whom she's met and become good friends with.

"I wish I could take you," she says, and she knows Fitz has been thinking the exact same thing.

"So do I. But we both know I wouldn't be able to control myself."

"Today is good practice for you, then."

He smirks as he spins her chair around until she's fully facing him, resting his hands on the dash either side of her. Now she's his captive, trapped by his body and his dark blue gaze. "Except down here," he murmurs, "where no one can see us…"

His kisses are slow, thorough; like he's savoring her. He holds her prisoner for several minutes and she decides that being ravished on boats is definitely one of her new favorite activities.

"You are delicious," he says eventually, his lips pink and moist from her tongue.

Olivia lets her fingertips continue to wander, exploring the firm muscles of his abs, his lower back, his ass. He is _so_ sexy: every part of her just aches for him, all the time.

"Livvie, stop." He takes her hands as they cross the front of his shorts. "You're naughty."

"You said that last night," she sighs, linking their fingers together. "I preferred the way that ended."

"You haven't seen how this is going to end yet," he counters. "Have you ever driven a powerboat at full speed before?"

"No. Are you about to tell me it's better than sex?"

"Hmm… It's a close call."

She laughs as she stands, offering him her seat. "Let's go then. I'm ready to be impressed, Captain."

Fitz opens a panel above their heads and takes out a replica Navy hat, putting it on over his curls. He flashes his most charming smile and offers a salute: "Yes ma'am."

* * *

"You were… incredible."

Olivia grins at him, looking so young and beautiful. "I know."

They're sitting on the sunny balcony of the club's restaurant, waiting for their late lunch to arrive and sipping peach iced tea. After teaching her the basics of steering and acceleration, Fitz let her stand between his legs and take control of the boat: something she took to like a fish to water. She was fearless, speeding past other vessels, unafraid of the waves which broke further offshore. At one point he suggested they stop to enjoy the sunshine on the deck but she was having too much fun - and he wasn't going to argue when he got to hold her in his arms, to share her joy.

"You're a natural. You earned that hat." He has the cutest photo of her on his phone, smiling up at him from beneath the dark brim of the captain's hat.

"I loved it. Can we come again soon?"

"Anytime you like, gorgeous girl."

He suspects the way he's smiling at her is unashamedly and obviously flirtatious but he can't help himself. She just brings it out of him, even in places where it's forbidden.

"Stop looking at me like that," she murmurs, blushing and looking around to see if any of the other diners are watching them - which they're not.

"Livvie, it's fine. No one here is interested in us. They're all far too busy worrying about the stock market and discussing the latest vintage to come out of their vineyards."

He casts his gaze over the people around them and knows he's right. He would be very surprised if even one of them felt inclined to take and share a picture of him and Olivia on social media.

"You do realize, by virtue of your membership here, that you're one of them - right?" She seems reassured and he laughs.

"I know."

"So where's your vineyard? I'm only interested if there's wine."

"Well, my father does actually-"

"No!" She stops him, her hand held up in the air, an incredulous expression on her face. "You are _not_ about to tell me your father owns a vineyard… Are you?"

Fitz can't help but smirk. "No."

"Oh, thank-"

"He part-owns one."

Her eyes widen spectacularly. "This is crazy! Your family is insane, Fitz! Property, yachts, vineyards…"

He shrugs slightly, longing to reach out and hold her hand across the table. The Grants have been a rich, successful family for generations; he grew up eating from a silver spoon. But they have always been a family who gives back, from his beloved grandfather whose estate still provides several University of California bursaries for disadvantaged students, to his father whose charitable events and personal contributions help thousands of people every year. Fitz knows his dad - certainly the black sheep of the family - would never have become so generous if it weren't for his mother, who didn't have a selfish bone in her body. Why she stayed with him when she found out about his infidelities is something Fitz has never understood.

"It's old money, Liv, inherited over hundreds of years. Most of it is invested, safe. I-"

Olivia cuts him off. "It's okay, you don't have to justify yourself to me. I was just surprised, that's all. You don't act like you come from such privilege."

It's not the first time he's heard that, and he's glad. "I would much rather have had a happy, stable family than an enormous house and endless vacations. There was a period when I resented my name and everything that came with it; when I rebelled and fled to London, to Colombia. But I've learned that it's my choices which make me who I am. I can't change my background but I can use what I have to help those who aren't so fortunate."

Those words are engrained into him now, his motto in everything he does. They sit in his core, alongside his only other true desire in life: to love someone wholly, and to have a family of his own. If Olivia isn't the missing piece of him, he'll be half-empty until the day he dies.

"You're amazing," she tells him now, looking at him like she can see all the way inside him; like she knows exactly what's in his heart. "I've never met anyone like you before, Fitz. I'm in awe of you."

She holds his gaze, strong and unembarrassed. How can she possibly be in awe of him? He wants to kneel down and worship her.

"I love how you don't even realize," he says softly, and his voice catches slightly in his throat.

"Realize what?"

"That I would give it all up for you… in a heartbeat."

A smile begins to form on her lips, her eyes shining with the hint of tears. "Even _The Georgiana_?"

"Even the other woman in my life, yes."

Olivia laughs and turns her head to gaze out over the water. Fitz watches her, wondering what she's thinking as the sounds of sea birds and motorboats swirl around them on the breeze. She has no idea how beautiful she is.

After several long moments of reflection, she finally looks back at him. "What do you think our lives would be like right now, if things were different? If you weren't married, if I wasn't trying to protect my reputation, if my ex-boyfriend hadn't destroyed every ounce of self-worth I'd ever possessed."

He's horrified at her last words. "Is that the problem - you don't feel _worthy_ of me?"

She shrugs, briefly closing her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"I think we should."

"No. Please, Fitz. I'm not ready. You said you'd wait for me to be ready." There's pain etched across her face and he can't bear it.

"Okay," he sighs. He's desperate to know what exactly Edison Davis did so he can fix every lasting piece of damage that man inflicted upon her, but only this morning he promised to let her come to him in her own time. "Well… I'd probably have proposed to you already."

"Really?"

"I think so."

They share a smile and it's so reassuring to see that she's not freaked out; that she _is_ able to envision them having a future together.

"It would be so simple, wouldn't it?" she asks, letting her hand reach for his over the table until the tips of their fingers are touching.

"It _is_ simple, Livvie. It's just you and me: two people; two halves of the same whole. You make me happier than I've ever been before in my life, and everything beyond that is secondary."

Just then a waitress appears with their lunch, interrupting their conversation but not their eye contact. "Thank you," Olivia says, not even glancing down at her food. "I feel the same way," she admits as soon as they're alone again. "And that scares me, because I swore I'd never let another man become the center of my world. But here you are, dragging me into your orbit… and here I am, letting you."

Fitz wants to stand up and lift her into his arms; to hold her so tightly she won't ever feel afraid again. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Yes."

"I think you need to let go. You can't control everything, especially not the way you feel, so stop fighting it. Stop worrying about what might happen and just enjoy today."

"I am enjoying today," she says with a small smile, and he can tell she feels chastised but that she does agree with his assessment. "You're pretty great at organizing dates, mister."

He grins at her as he raises his glass. "Thank you. Now, we're going to drink to us, and to happiness, and to you trying your hardest to embrace it. Okay?"

She sits forward to accept his toast. "To happiness," she echoes. And then, more quietly: "To you."

* * *

After Fitz drops her home later that afternoon, Olivia doesn't see him again until the following day. She spends three hours getting ready for the awards ceremony with her hair and makeup team, chatting away but unable to stop her mind from drifting to what he said earlier about control - and marveling at how right he was. She's been a meticulous planner for as long as she can remember: everything from her homework schedule to proportioning her savings for the future. She thinks it stemmed from the aftermath of her mother's death, when routine was the only thing that allowed her to get out of bed each morning, and it worked for her; enabled her to succeed in ways even she hadn't dared to imagine.

She even planned how she would fall in love, in those rare moments when she wasn't busy rehearsing speeches or trying to persuade yet another corporation to support her cause. It would be slow, steady, _sure_. He would be a friend first, probably one of her best friends, and they would grow so close together that one day they just merged.

She should have known it wasn't realistic when she fell for Edison, this tall, handsome politics graduate with big ideas and an even bigger ego. She wasn't friends with him before they became a couple; in fact, looking back, she wonders if they were _ever_ friends. He certainly wasn't someone who made her laugh a lot, or who was capable of joking around. But he made her feel loved, and safe, and he always seemed to say exactly the right thing whenever she was having doubts about the two of them. He was a charmer but, unlike Fitz, he used it to manipulate everyone around him, including her.

When they broke up - after he uttered those fateful words which destroyed everything she thought she'd known for the past two years - he took most of her with him: her heart, her self-confidence, her ability to trust her own judgement. And she had no other survival mechanism but routine, _control._ She could plan every minute of every day, making herself so busy she barely had time to fall apart. Maybe if she'd allowed herself chance to grieve she would have gotten over him sooner; maybe she wouldn't find it so hard to surrender herself to Fitz.

And Fitz… They way she's fallen for him is the exact opposite of slow and steady. She has no control, no matter how hard she tries to make sense of what's happening. She shouldn't love him already, but she does; her happiness shouldn't be so dependent on him, but it is. None of it fits with her plan… but, maybe, that doesn't matter. As long as she's happy, then so what? It's an idea she's going to have to get used to, but she's very willing to try. She would love to be able to stop worrying about what _might_ happen: with his divorce, with her friends' reactions to their relationship, with the media's perception of them. She would love to stop fighting against herself and finally relax.

She has a great time at the awards ceremony that evening, catching up with friends she hasn't seen for ages. Fitz texts her halfway through, telling her he's seen photos of her online already and she looks stunning. It leaves her longing for him to be there, effortlessly handsome in a tux as he slips his hand around her waist and holds her against him, claiming her as his. She wonders which events she has coming up that she could potentially get him an invite to, if only so they can spend time with one another, pretending to be nothing more than acquaintances. When they're officially together, she knows they won't be able to keep their hands off each other at parties - and she also knows she won't care what people think at that point.

She gets to bed late and wakes ten hours later, alone in her bed. There are several missed calls from Fitz on her phone, and one from Abby. She speaks to him first.

"Hi sleeping beauty. How are you? I was beginning to worry."

"I'm fine, don't be silly. I've literally just woken up. You okay?"

"Not really."

"Why?" She sits up, hoping it's nothing serious.

"Because I'm here, and not in your bed."

Olivia rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh. "You are so cheesy."

"I'm serious! Can I come over?"

He sounds like he's been waiting for her to wake up all morning - how can she refuse? "I think that might be okay."

She can tell he's grinning. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

An hour later and Olivia is lying on her couch with a very warm, _very_ sexy man on top of her. His wandering hands are everywhere as he kisses and nibbles on her neck and it's becoming harder to ignore the ache which is building deep in her core.

"Fitz," she warns breathlessly, "I'm trying to watch the movie."

"No you're not."

His low voice and his breath against her ear makes her giggle.

"I am!"

She tries to push him off of her but he's too heavy. Instead he leans on his forearms so he's looking down at her, his blue eyes both playful and stormy with arousal. They gaze at one another for a moment, breathing hard, silly smiles on their faces. She's been resisting him for the last half hour, when the film started and it became quite clear that the only reason he agreed to her choice of chick flick was because he never had any intention of actually watching it. And she's not that interested either but teasing him is a _lot_ of fun.

"You're actually serious?" he asks, his expression a mixture of amusement and frustration.

"Mm hmm."

With a lot of grumbling, Fitz briefly kisses her lips and moves off of her. He settles back down into the corner of the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Olivia curls into his side, slipping her fingers beneath his waistband and resting her hand there, very low on his abdomen. She's planning on a long, slow afternoon of playing with him; there's no rush, and she's sure that when they eventually give in, the resulting sex will be nothing short of explosive.

Whether or not he's aware of her plan, Fitz at least tries to refocus his attention on the screen, but it's less than ten seconds before he asks: "So, what the hell is happening?"

"I don't know," Olivia whispers back, amused. " _Someone_ kept distracting me. Shall we start from the beginning again?"

"God no. Let's just make it up. I think that guy is an alien in disguise," he states, pointing to Ryan Gosling.

She can't help but laugh. "And Emma Stone is really a man in drag, right?"

"Hey, you're good at this Livvie."

They continue for a while, concocting a fantastically absurd plot, until Fitz declares theirs much better than the original and suggests they actually make it into a film. "You can be my date to the Oscars when we we're nominated for Best Picture," he suggests.

"Oh no, mister." She sits up so she's facing him. "You can be _my_ date. And I think you mean when we _win_ Best Picture."

"Of course. Sorry boss."

He's so handsome, so lovable when he grins at her, that she can't help but lean into him, nuzzling her nose against his.

"Hi beautiful," he says softly, stroking her cheek with his fingertips.

"Hi."

Olivia straddles his lap and starts to run her fingers through his hair, until his eyes fall closed and he's making contented noises from deep in his throat. Their lightheartedness has faded away but in its place is tenderness, affection, desire. His hands are gently massaging her thighs and every so often she leans down to kiss him, lightly brushing her lips over his, trailing them along his jaw and around his ear. She can feel him growing hard again but he lets her play with him for a long time, basking in her touch.

"Baby," he sighs eventually, their hips now rocking slowly together. His eyes flutter open and she smiles at his dazed expression.

"Hi baby. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Mm hmm." He kisses her throat, moving leisurely down her chest, his light stubble grazing her skin in the most arousing way. When he slides his hands beneath her tank top, pushing it upwards, she lets him, her earlier plans long forgotten.

Just as he's revealed her bra and his mouth is wandering along the lacy border, there's a knock at her door. It's so sudden that they both jump, staring at each other in surprise. She's half-tempted to ignore it but, five seconds later, it sounds again.

"Ugh," she sighs, kissing him before she extricates herself from his embrace, rearranging her clothes. "I wonder who that is."

"Whoever they are, they have exceptionally bad timing."

Olivia lets her gaze roam over him before she leaves the room. He's unmistakably turned on and totally delicious, from his messed up curls and kiss-stained lips to his perfectly defined abs peeking out where his t-shirt has ridden up and the enormous erection tenting his pants. She cannot believe she's being denied him right now.

She rushes to the front door and looks through the peephole, seeing that it's Abby on the other side. "Liv? Are you there?"

"Just give me a minute!"

She runs back into the living room. "It's Abby."

"Fuck." Fitz is already standing but he blinks, clearly expecting Olivia to have chased away their unwanted visitor.

"It'll be fine," she says, more to herself than him. "She's great. Nosy, but great. Do you mind meeting her now?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

Olivia can't help but laugh at the situation. "No, you don't. Now go and sort yourself out," she chides, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. She eyes the rest of the room after he's gone, hurriedly rearranging the sofa as best she can before smoothing down her hair in the hallway mirror and finally opening the door.

"Hey," she breathes, welcoming her friend inside. She's trying to act completely normally but inside she's panicking: this was not the way she'd imagined the two of them meeting; it's definitely out of her control.

"Hey." Abby looks very suspicious as she gives her a hug. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I was just tidying up. How are you?"

"I'm fine." But she's still frowning. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." At that moment, Fitz appears and Olivia is forced to amend her statement as Abby's mouth falls open. "Well… kind of."

"Hi. You must be Abby," he says in his impossibly smooth baritone, moving forward to kiss her cheek. Her wide eyes meet Liv's over his shoulder and she mouths: " _Oh my god!"_

"I'm Fitz," he continues as if this meeting is nothing out of the ordinary, but Olivia can see he's both entertained and a little taken aback by Abby's reaction to him. "Shall I go and make us some tea?"

"Yes please," Olivia smiles, briefly touching his waist before he disappears, thinking little of the gesture until she catches her friend staring.

"Oh my _god_ , Liv!" Abby whispers exaggeratedly. "Are you fucking serious? That's your new guy?"

"Yeah." Olivia can't stop herself from beaming. So what if this was unplanned? Abby is her best friend; she wants the two of them to get to know one another.

"He's fucking _hot_."

"I know."

"Wow." She looks totally shocked. "I mean, you said Greek god but... fuck. And he is _not_ forty."

"He is."

"I don't believe you. Have you checked the birth date on his passport?"

Olivia laughs. "Stop being ridiculous. Come on."

They head into the living room, both staring at Fitz's back as he reaches up into one of the kitchen cupboards.

"What _exactly_ did I interrupt?" Abby asks, picking up a stray cushion from behind the arm of the couch and holding it out with a smirk.

"Nothing much."

"Hmm." She glances at the TV screen where the film is paused. "If I asked you to tell me what's going on in this movie, would you be able to?"

Olivia feels her cheeks heating as they sit down. "No," she admits with a grin.

"Livvie," Fitz calls before Abby can reply, although she looks suitably impressed. "Do you have any more teabags?"

" _Livvie?"_ Abby murmurs, eyebrows raised to the sky. "Since when has anyone called you Livvie?"

Olivia just smiles as she gets up again to help Fitz. Her friend's awestruck reaction to him, to their casual domesticity, has made her feel both pleased and proud. He is amazing, and she wants the whole world to know it.

"I'll have a drink and then leave you two alone," Fitz says quietly as soon as she's near.

"You don't have to go."

"I _want_ to," he grins. "I have the feeling I'm about to be dissected. And I'm sure Abby has a million questions she doesn't want to ask in front of me."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. She has no filter, and no fear."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Very."

They laugh softly and Fitz kisses her, his hand rising to the small of her back. "Now, the tea?"

"Oh, right." She turns to the cupboards on her left and, out of the corner of her eye, notices Abby watching them with fascination. The last time she saw Olivia with a man, it was Edison and their behavior couldn't be any further from her and Fitz's. "Here you go."

She hands the packet to him before returning to her friend, who has moved to sit in one of the armchairs. "I thought maybe you'd been having sex on the sofa," she says by way of explanation.

"We weren't." Abby just stares at her in that skeptical way which always forces Olivia to confess to all her sins. "Okay, we almost were - before we were rudely interrupted."

"Well, you never called me back so I thought I'd come and surprise you. Don't worry, I won't do so again."

"I'm sorry."

Abby's expression softens. "Oh Liv, don't be. Look at you - I haven't seen you smile like this for years. I'm so happy for you."

Olivia's face is starting to hurt, she's smiling so much. "Me too."

"Here we go, ladies."

Fitz arrives with a tea tray bearing a pot, three mugs, milk and sugar. "How are you, Abby?" he inquires, seating himself beside Olivia with about a foot of space between them. "It's nice to meet you finally."

"You too," she replies, gazing at him with undisguised curiosity. "I'm good thank you. Still a little hungover from last night actually, but I'm getting there."

"Heavy night?"

"Yeah. Tequila."

"Ouch."

Olivia watches them interact, noticing the instant warmth between them. "Who were you out with?" she asks

"Some of the girls from the office. You know Grace, Megan, Diana? And then we went on to Lavo and met up with a bunch of guys from Tremlett Hughes. One of them was _really_ cute."

She can tell from Abby's tone that there's more to this story. "And?"

Abby looks briefly at Fitz, obviously deciding she can speak about this kind of thing in front of him. "We got shitfaced on shots and ended up having sex in his shower. Good shower sex too, from what I can remember."

"There's bad shower sex?" Fitz looks confused and adorable at the same time.

"Oh yeah. You know, when you're not quite the right height for each other and it's all too slippery, so you end up on your knees and then it starts to hurt and you wish you'd just never bothered?"

He glances at Olivia who can't help but laugh at how frank her best friend is. "Way to break the ice, Abs."

"What? He asked."

"I did," Fitz admits, grinning despite himself. "I'll be sure not to in future."

He pours the tea and passes it out. Abby's standard order of three sugars makes him raise his eyebrows. "I thought _I_ had a sweet tooth," he comments, and maybe it's because of the way his blue eyes meet hers and the foreplay they'd been enjoying just ten minutes earlier, but Olivia's mind jumps straight to the image of him lying between her legs, feasting on her. It takes her a while to calm herself down and return to the present, by which time the conversation has moved on to their boating trip the previous day.

"It was so much fun," she confirms, squeezing Fitz's thigh. "I can't wait to go again."

"I'll take you anytime. Both of you."

"Awesome," Abby says enthusiastically. "I've always imagined sunning myself on a boat, sipping Champagne."

"Well, if we have any more hot days this year we can go out, and I'll bring the bubbles."

"I like him," she says loudly to Olivia, making him laugh. "You can keep him."

"Thanks. I think I will."

They gaze at one another, smiling widely, and she feels his hand cover hers. She's not sure how much time has passed when Abby clears her throat - it could be a second or a minute.

"Are you sure you two haven't known each other longer?"

Olivia feels slightly embarrassed that she's been caught looking dreamily into his eyes and tears her gaze away. She takes a sip of her tea, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "It feels like we have," she murmurs. She knows Abby hasn't forgotten what she told her about Fitz being her soulmate.

"It does," Fitz confirms, and he doesn't look ashamed at all. In fact, he's still staring at her like she's the most precious thing in the world. "I feel like I've known her my whole life."

"Aw, you guys." Abby, often referred to by her colleagues - and even her friends - as the Ice Queen, actually looks emotional. Her eyes seek out Olivia's, searching for confirmation that he really is this perfect, which she is powerless to deny. Can Abby tell how desperately in love with him she is already? It seems impossible that she can't, given how Olivia can feel her affection for him radiating across the space between them like a heatwave.

Fitz finally seems to shake himself out of his reverie. "So," he says, smiling at Oliva before turning to Abby. "Livvie tells me you're a lawyer. What area do you practice in?"

They chat for a further twenty minutes about their careers before Fitz politely states that he's going to leave the two of them alone. "Are you sure?" Abby says. "You don't have to go on my account."

"It's okay, I need to catch up on some work before tomorrow. It was great to meet you."

They all stand and he embraces Abby before letting Olivia walk him to the door. "That went well, didn't it?" he says quietly as she smooths out his t-shirt, running her hands over the muscles beneath.

"Yeah. I haven't seen her warm to anyone as quickly as she has to you." She looks up at him, unwilling to let him leave. "I don't want to let you go."

"You have to."

"I don't."

He laughs as she wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly. "I could come back this evening and sleep over? I'll bring pizza."

"You'd better."

He lifts her chin and kisses her. "See you later then, sweet baby." He's almost out the door when he adds: "By the way, when she's firing questions at you - make sure you emphasize just how fantastic I am in bed."

She tries to playfully hit him but he's already out of reach. When she returns to the living room, with the familiar feeling of emptiness she gets every time they say goodbye, Abby is sat up straight and ready for her.

"Oh my god, Olivia Carolyn Pope! That man is _so_ in love with you! There was so much sexual tension in this room I almost had to walk out at one point."

Olivia doesn't have anything to say to that so she just takes a seat, trying to hide her very contented smile.

"Does he look at you like that all the time? How do you not jump on him and kiss his handsome face off?"

"He does. And I do, sometimes."

Abby seems to be struggling to comprehend the situation. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I've never felt like this before."

There's a pause, before her friend can no longer contain herself: "Tell me about the sex."

She rolls her eyes, trying to delay the inevitable. "What about it?"

"Liv. Seriously? Is it amazing?"

"Yes."

"… And?"

"Ugh, Abigail! What do you want me to say? We can't get enough of each other. I want him all the time. Just being near him makes everything inside of me melt."

"When did you first sleep together?"

"The night we met." She lets herself revisit that evening for the second time in two days. "I knew there was something between us the moment I looked into his eyes. It wasn't a spark so much as a fire. You know when you can't make conversation with someone - everything you say is just pure flirtation? It was like that. We connected on such a deep level, like we'd known each other forever. We tried to stay away from each other at the conference dinner - I already knew he was married - but there was a force which kept drawing us together. He almost kissed me at the bar and I knew it was wrong, but I was so disappointed when he didn't."

Abby looks fascinated. "What happened then?"

"We went to Stephen's bar for a drink." She tries to ignore the pain that briefly crosses her friend's face when she mentions his name - there's a lot of history there. "We were squeezed up against each other in the corner and Fitz… he said something to me I'll never forget. He was so sexy and I wanted him so badly I would have taken off my clothes right then and there.

"He took me out onto the roof and he was shaking, fighting to stay in control of himself. He asked me to tell him to stop and I refused. I already knew I could never walk away from him. When he finally gave in and kissed me, the world just disappeared."

The next part of the night is a blur, the memories made when her mind was hazy with desire. "We ended up in my hotel room. He held me against the wall…" Talking about this, remembering the way he smelled and how her body flooded with the sweetest pleasure every time she ground down against his erection, is turning her on. "It was… incredible."

She stops there. She doesn't have the words to describe how Fitz made her feel that night, and she can't let herself get any more carried away.

Abby, for once in her life, doesn't seem able to speak. Olivia wonders whether she's said too much, but it was all honest.

"That sounds… _insane_ ," her friend says at last. "I've never experienced anything like that before. Not even close."

"I know. Neither had I, until Fitz."

"Do you think this is it, then? Once he's divorced, you two will get married, have beautiful babies and live happily ever after?"

There's that word again - happy.

And she is. She's so happy when she's with Fitz, or talking about him with her best friend; when she's not worrying or trying to control everything around her.

Actually, happy is quite easy.

"We will," she says, smiling. "This is it."

* * *

She's out of breath, panting, sweating; her head spinning. Fitz slowly kisses his way up her sated body, emerging from beneath the covers to gaze down at her with so much love in his eyes.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi," she whispers. And then: "I'm so happy."

And she really, really means it.


	14. Will It Always Be Like This?

**A/N:** This is a short one, because it's been so long and I'm so sorry. If I'd ended this chapter where I was intending, it would probably be over 20,000 words and take me several more weeks.

Your feedback for chapter 13 was amazing. I'm so grateful. I love hearing your thoughts and predictions - although I can't comment on any of them, because spoilers. I hope you enjoy this miniature installment!

* * *

 **Chapter 14 - Will It Always Be Like This?**

Monday feels like the longest day of Fitz's life.

His schedule is entirely booked up with meetings from eight in the morning until gone seven at night. Somehow, despite Charlotte's warning on Friday and the regular reminders from his calendar app, he'd managed to remain oblivious to it over the weekend. He's calling it the Olivia Pope effect: his tendency to neglect anything that isn't her. And it's really coming back to bite him now, after his past few weeks of carefree vacationing.

His very last meeting drags on forever and by this point he's barely listening, preoccupied with the thought of Olivia waiting for him just a short drive away. Will she have showered yet; covered her skin in vanilla body butter, put on her silk pajamas? He's missed her all day; can't wait to wrap her up in his arms and return to their own little bubble, leaving the rest of the world outside.

Cyrus is still in his office when Fitz is finally ready to leave. "You still busy Cy?" he asks, stopping in the doorway. "Anything I can help with?"

His second-in-command looks up from the papers on his desk and smiles wearily. "Not unless you want to read through some of these menus from-" He counts the sheets in front of him. "- Twenty _one_ caterers and come up with a shortlist of ten for James and I to meet, _in person_ , over the next few weeks."

Fitz grimaces. This is eerily reminiscent of his wedding planning with Mellie, whose ideas were similarly grand and excessive. In the year leading up to their big day, every minute of his free time was spent being dragged around to visit endless churches, hotels, photographers, florists… In the end, he was so fed up with her ignoring any suggestions he made that he just let her get on with it by herself - which made them both a _lot_ happier.

"I think I'll pass," he admits. "Sorry buddy."

"Nah, I don't blame you. I'd pass too if I could. The things we do for love, hey?"

 _The things I'd do for you, Livvie_ , Fitz thinks automatically, picturing her beautiful face. He'd take her to the moon to get married if that's what she wanted.

He blinks to clear his thoughts and notices Cyrus's gaze has drifted to the door frame, where his left hand is resting by his head. "I see you took off your wedding ring. It's finally over, then?"

Fitz nods. "We're getting a divorce. I met with a lawyer on Friday."

Cyrus leans back in his chair, studying him thoughtfully. After knowing each other so long, Fitz is unfazed by this scrutiny. "Good for you," he says eventually, his voice sincere. "You've seemed happier these last few weeks than you have been in years."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Everyone noticed today. Emmanuelle was telling the whole coffee room this afternoon that she hopes her upcoming vacation is as rejuvenating as yours obviously was."

"Where's she going?"

"Her sister's bachelorette in Vegas."

"Hmm."

They both laugh as Cyrus stands up. "Right, I've had enough of trying to decipher the difference between a mousse, a foam and an 'air' - whatever the hell that is. Do you want to get a drink, celebrate your freedom?"

"I'd love to, but… I have plans."

His split-second hesitation is enough for Cyrus's eyebrows to rise; for him to jump straight to the right conclusion. "You cheeky old dog, Fitzgerald! Still married and already seeing someone new."

Fitz can do nothing but shrug and smile. He's never been able to lie to his closest friend. "It wasn't something I was planning on. I met her in London and it just… happened."

Cy is silent for a moment, still analyzing him. _He knows_ , Fitz thinks. _He knows I've fallen hard._ And it's a great feeling, to be able to share at least a little of his overwhelming joy with someone else.

"I'd better let you get going then," Cyrus says eventually, offering a knowing smirk.

"Want a lift?"

"No, it's okay. I still love the walk home, even after all these years."

"Alright. See you tomorrow."

"Night boss."

Fitz can feel Cyrus's bemused gaze on his back as he heads for the elevators, and he feels so damn happy and carefree he has to resist the urge to jump up in the air. Today, for the first time in so many years, he can't wait to get home to the woman in his life. Previously he dreaded leaving the office; often used the pretense of paperwork to eat dinner at his desk, to avoid an evening of stunted conversation and sullen silences within his own house. But now… _everything_ has changed.

Olivia has already touched every part of his world - and he cannot wait to see what else her magical powers can do.

* * *

Fitz greets the concierge in her building just after eight o'clock, a friendly gentleman called Leon who already recognizes him. "Back again so soon, Mr Grant," he says with a smile as he calls the elevator. "Is it too early for Miss Pope to give you a key?"

"What would you think if I said no?" Fitz asks, grinning; his good mood palpable in the elegant marble foyer.

"I'd think you were hopelessly love-struck, and crazy lucky. But what do I know?"

"Only the secrets of everyone coming in and out of this place?"

The older man laughs. "I suppose so. I've seen enough scandals here to last a lifetime. Don't you two become another one."

Fitz claps him amiably on the upper arm as the elevator doors open. "We'll try not to. Thanks, Leon."

"Goodnight, Mr Grant."

He's outside Olivia's door thirty seconds later, and kissing her just five seconds after that. She's everything he's been dreaming about all day, wearing nothing but her smile and those little silk pajamas he was so hoping for. Her lips are soft beneath his, their kisses saying _'hello'_ and _'I've missed you'_. They're not rushing but at the same time, Fitz _wants_ her. It's patience and desire, currently in harmony but vulnerable: one move from her, one word, and the scales will tip.

After a long minute she sighs into his mouth and he pauses, giving them both chance to breathe. "Hi Livvie," he whispers, cupping her face in his palm, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes flutter open, dark and full of love.

"Hi Fitzy," she whispers back.

"Nice pajamas."

They both look down, following the path of his hands over her shoulders and the outline of her sensitive breasts to her waist and hips, her bare legs. Her skin is warm and impossibly smooth, her body so reactive to his touch, and his equilibrium falters.

"You kept me up so late yesterday," she says quietly, and it's not a defense - he can tell by the roughness at the edge of her voice. It's pure seduction. "I'm hoping for an early night tonight…"

Desire wins.

Many things happen all at once: he lifts her and she gasps and their mouths collide, harder than intended because of her upwards momentum. He turns to his left and sits her on the sideboard; something falls to the floor - her purse, maybe? - but she doesn't seem to care, and neither does he. Now their kisses are anything but patient and the pressure of his fingertips indents her thighs as they rise over his hips, tilting her pelvis, opening her to him. He groans at this contact, at the blazing heat of her core: the evidence that he sets her on fire, makes her _burn_. His erection grows further, stealing vital blood from his brain as he tries to get closer, to satisfy all his most carnal instincts and be inside her _right now_.

She moans and writhes when he squeezes her breasts, dragging his nails over her silk-covered nipples until they're hard enough to cut glass; throws her head back and cries out when his fingers slide beneath her pajama shorts, testing and teasing through her lacy underwear.

"So wet already," he says hoarsely, pressing kisses along the exposed column of her throat. He feels her hands in his hair, pulling his curls as her body trembles in his arms.

"I have a surprise for you," she murmurs hotly in his ear, her breath and her words making him shiver. He pulls back slightly to look at her: panting, lips swollen, eyes like molten cocoa - she is devastatingly sexy.

Before he can say or do anything, however, his phone begins to vibrate in the pocket of his pants. They both laugh a little as he struggles to extricate it, pressed as it is against Olivia's inner thigh. "I know you're pleased to see me," she teases, the interruption allowing some of her senses to return, "but I've never seen _that_ happen before."

"I'm one of a kind, baby," he grins, noting his father's name on the display before discarding the phone on the surface next to them.

"Who is it?"

"No one. Now, where were we?"

He kisses the smile on her lips; lets his hands begin to roam again. He can never get enough of the way her body rises into his touch, of the way she is so clearly as affected by him as he is by her. She begins to loosen his tie, to unbutton his shirt, but something's buzzing and it's distracting them both.

It's his father again.

Fitz is torn, frowning at the phone. It must be something important because Big Jerry _never_ calls twice, but Olivia is just so tempting…

"That's a very persistent 'no one'," she says now, pausing in her undressing of him. "Maybe you should answer it?"

The call ends before he has chance to, but it's followed by a message which makes his blood run cold: _Fitz it's Marilyn. Your father's in hospital. Please phone back._

"Shit."

He shows the message to Olivia. A second later, her wide eyes meet his and panic is already rising within him, clouding his thoughts. Several worst-case-scenarios begin to flash through his mind: traffic accident, heart attack, stroke… Each one is accompanied by the same image of his dad lying in a hospital bed, frail and gray and close to death.

Olivia's palm on his cheek draws him back to reality. "Call her, Fitz. It might not be anything serious."

It's exactly what he needs to hear.

"Yeah, you're right." He shakes himself, then kisses her briefly. She links her fingers through his and smiles encouragingly as he dials.

"Hello Fitz."

"Hi Marilyn. What's going on?"

Marilyn has been his father's assistant for almost twenty years, and his lover for probably just as long. Fitz has no idea why they've never made it official, never gotten married.

"First of all, he's okay."

Instantly there's the sweetness of relief coursing through his veins, calming his heart rate.

"He started vomiting blood after breakfast. Huge amounts. By the time the ambulance got here, he looked awful; white as a sheet. It was terrifying."

"Jesus."

"Indeed. When I got to the ER he was already having blood transfusions into both arms. They took him for an emergency endoscopy and managed to seal off a bleeding stomach ulcer. He's in the ICU because of all the blood loss; I just stepped out to update you. I would have called you when it all happened but he explicitly told me not to. Stubborn old man."

Fitz isn't surprised by this. His father has always been fiercely private, and proud - he's never taken a sick day in his life; doesn't believe in them.

"Oh, he's stubborn alright. Is he awake now?"

"Yes, but still a little drowsy from the anesthetic. He says he's comfortable." Her voice becomes quieter. "The doctor told me he was very, very lucky. He lost more than half his blood volume. I don't like to think what would have happened if I hadn't been there this morning…"

A sudden, overwhelming rush of love for his dad sweeps through Fitz, instantly bringing tears to his eyes. He turns away from Olivia, not because he's embarrassed but because it's so profound, so intensely personal. Although they've never been close, he could have lost his father today and that thought is… just unbearable.

"Thank you," he says to Marilyn, struggling to keep his voice even. It doesn't come anywhere near explaining the extent of his gratitude to her - for being there, for caring so much - but it's all he can manage right now.

She seems to understand. "Don't mention it, Fitz. I'm just so glad he's alright."

"Me too." He realizes he's leaning against the wall for support. "I should come and see him. There must be a flight I can get tonight."

"I think he'd like that."

"Alright, I'll let you know. Please give him my love, tell him I'm coming. And to do exactly what the doctors and nurses say."

She laughs. "I already have, don't you worry. We'll see you soon."

"Bye, Marilyn. And please, call me if anything changes?"

"Of course."

He gives himself a second to process everything before finally facing Olivia once more. She looks concerned and lovely and beautiful, all at once. "He's okay," Fitz says, moving to stand back between her legs but his emotions a thousand miles away from where they were five minutes ago. She holds his gaze for a long moment, checking that he's alright too, and there's so much tenderness there that he's not; in fact, he's almost in tears again.

"Oh Fitz," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "What happened?"

He swallows hard, trying to control himself, drawing on the strength she's so selflessly providing. "It sounds like he had a massive hemorrhage from a stomach ulcer. They managed to stop it and now he's in intensive care, awake but drowsy. Marilyn - she's his assistant - said he lost half his blood volume... He's lucky to have survived."

They draw apart to gaze at one another again, soft brown eyes and fragile blue.

"He'll be okay," she whispers, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. "He's in the right place. They'll look after him."

"I know. I just feel… shocked. I've never seen him ill before. He's my dad, you know? He's supposed to be invincible."

"He will get better, baby. I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in no time."

Her fingertips are now tracing his face; she runs her thumb back and forth over his lips before slowly reaching up to kiss him, her eyes questioning whether this is okay until he nods ever so slightly and they touch, gentle and loving.

 _I love you._

It's on the tip of his tongue again: forbidden but undeniable, brought to the fore by his heightened emotions, by her effortless perfection. Instead of speaking it he tries to show her, to pour his love into each and every kiss he gives her. It makes him passionate, desperate, and not in a remotely sexual way.

They're breathless afterwards and he thinks she gets it, judging by the wetness of her eyes and the smile she can't even hope to hide. Neither of them speak for a while, both at a loss to find any words other than those most simple, most world-changing three.

"I don't want to leave," Fitz says finally, the only other thing he's thinking.

Olivia smiles, squeezing him closer with her thighs. "You have to."

"I don't." She giggles and he frowns. "Didn't we have almost this exact conversation yesterday, right here?"

"We did," she confirms. "But this time, you're the needy one."

Fitz kisses her again, uncaring. "I always need you." Then he lifts her into his arms, cuddling her close for several moments. How is it possible that she's small enough to be held like this, wrapped around him, and yet the impact she's made on his life has been so astronomically huge?

"What was your surprise?" he asks as he slowly sets her down on her feet. Their lustful encounter feels like it was days ago, not minutes.

She shrugs slightly. "It can wait. Now, you need to book a flight mister. And you must be hungry too."

"I'm fine." But his stomach rumbles at the mention of food and they both laugh. "Okay, maybe I am a little hungry."

"I was going to make mac and cheese but if you're in a rush, there's leftover pizza from last night?"

"You were going to cook?" He tries not to sound surprised but isn't quite successful, and she rolls her eyes.

"It's pasta and cheese, Fitz. Even I can manage something so basic."

"Aw, you're too good to me Livvie," he teases, trying to nuzzle his face in her neck as she fights him off, laughing because his breath is tickling her sensitive skin.

"Stop it! Get off me!"

He just pulls her closer, using his height and strength to his advantage. "You'll miss me when I'm gone."

"I won't!"

He kisses his way to her mouth and spends some time convincing her otherwise. Now they're no longer fighting each other but the threat of separation, together.

"Okay, I will miss you," she concedes, out of breath, when he finally releases her.

"I'll miss you too." He lovingly brushes her hair back behind her ears. "You are beautiful."

Her expression softens even further and she presses another kiss to his lips. "Thank you. I'll miss hearing you say that."

"We can FaceTime…"

"Oh, yeah." She blushes and he tries not to laugh as she takes his hand and draws him towards the living room. He takes a seat on the couch and searches for flights on his phone while she heats up pizza in the kitchen.

"There's one with Virgin at ten o'clock," he calls out. "Maybe I should just change my booking from Thursday to tonight. I guess there's no point me coming back and forth when I'm spending the weekend in California anyway."

"I guess not." She passes him a plate and sits beside him, unable to hide her sadness.

"It's only six days," he says, trying and failing to make it sound like it's no big deal.

"We've only been back together for four."

He looks at her for a long moment. She's acting a little childishly, but he feels exactly the same way. "I know. It sucks."

"Do you think your dad's fundraiser will even go ahead now?"

"It'll have to; it takes the best part of a year to organize. In his last email, he told me that one of the auction prizes is afternoon tea with Elton John."

"Wow. I'd bid for that."

"You'll be fighting me for it."

She manages a smile. "Will it always be like this - days, weeks, apart?"

"It might, sometimes. I occasionally have to fly to my regional offices, and once or twice a year to South America. And you travel too."

"Usually only overnight."

"Then I'll come with you."

Her perfectly-shaped eyebrows rise. "Don't you have to work?"

"Nah. I'm an excellent delegator. Cyrus is much better than me at my job, anyway."

"Poor Cyrus."

"Don't worry about him. He's a self-confessed workaholic, he loves it."

Olivia purses her lips, evidently trying not to smile. Fitz puts his pizza down on the coffee table and takes her hands in his. "Whatever happens, we'll be fine. I want to be with you for the rest of my life: a few days apart here and there is nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"When you put it like that…"

Her lips curve and he has to kiss them. "I'll call you every day. Twice a day. And send you naughty texts."

"Just keep them anonymous."

"Why?" His voice deepens. "Does that turn you on?"

She throws back her head and laughs. He's going to miss these carefree moments most of all. "No, you idiot. Just in case of-"

"-Hackers, I know. Don't worry, I'll be a good boy."

"I'd prefer it if you weren't."

"Oh Livvie. If you talk like that, you'll make me stay."

She smiles and draws away. "No, you have to go and see your father. Now eat your dinner and book your flight."

"Yes miss."

He doesn't even mind when she swats his arm.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they're back in the hallway, saying goodbye so he can drive to Henry's and pack a bag before going to the airport.

"Happy birthday for Saturday," he says softly, holding her close and gazing into her eyes. "Have the best day with your friends, and your dad. We'll celebrate when I'm back, I promise."

"Okay. I can't wait."

He kisses her just once, knowing he'll never leave if he lets himself fall into her again.

"Bye Fitzy. I hope your dad's okay."

"I'll keep you updated."

He hesitates, one hand on the door. He can't seem to stop looking at her.

"What?" she asks impatiently, but she's aware of his predicament - he can see it in her mischievous expression.

"I think twenty-seven is going to be a good year for you."

In fact he knows this, because he's going to do everything in his power to spoil her at every opportunity.

Olivia closes the space between them, laying her palm on his chest. She reaches up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then his lips. "Oh, it's going to be the best," she whispers.

And they're both right - but in ways neither of them could _ever_ imagine.


	15. How Has That Been Enough For You?

**THANK YOU to everyone who is still reading, and reviewing. You are the BEST.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15: How Has That Been Enough For You?**

It's late when Fitz arrives at his father's bedside, although it feels even later to him, having crossed the country. Fortunately, the ICU doesn't limit visiting hours.

Unfortunately, the horrible image that entered his mind as soon as Marilyn first texted him is right here in front of his eyes: his dad looks older than he's ever seen him, and suddenly frail - like he's aged twenty years in the space of a single day.

"Don't tell me, son - I look like shit."

The same blue eyes Fitz sees in every mirror are now gazing at him, and he's relieved to notice some sparkle still remains there. "Hi Dad."

He doesn't trust himself to say anything else - he's too overwhelmed by the monitors, by all the wires crisscrossing his father's body, tying him to the machines which surround his bed. There's a line entering the side of his neck which has five separate infusions running through it: three are clear, one is blood and the last is something yellow which makes Fitz feel slightly nauseous.

"It's okay," says his nurse, Jackie, who introduced herself just outside the room when he arrived and warned him to expect medical paraphernalia and little conversation from her unwell patient. "He's doing just fine, aren't you Jerry?"

"I'll be back on the golf course tomorrow, don't you worry."

She smiles at him. "Maybe not tomorrow, but that spirit will get you there a lot sooner. Here, Fitz, have a seat."

"Thank you." He takes the chair she offers, setting it down at the side of the bed. Instinctively he covers his father's hand with his own, which is reassuringly warm. It's the first time they've held hands since he was a child and he's surprised how comfortable it feels to be the one supporting his father now, and not the other way around.

"You didn't have to come all this way," Jerry says. He sounds exhausted.

"Of course I did."

His father's fingers twitch beneath his. "Thank you. It's good to see you."

"You too, Dad."

It's only a few sentences but this is probably the most honest, emotive conversation they've had in years. Jerry's eyes close, his breathing deep and even. Fitz watches him for a while, thinking he's fallen asleep, and it dawns on him: his father is getting old. He's no longer immune to all of the illnesses that young people just shrug off with a nonchalant _'I'll worry about that when I'm older.'_

Big Jerry's older is now.

He's only seventy-four - not even classed as geriatric yet - but his body isn't what it used to be; today has proved that beyond a doubt. And along with this realization comes several others: that he himself is getting older too; that Jerry won't be able to run around with his grandchildren the same way he did with Fitz when he was young; that one day, he will have lost both his parents and be left alone in the world.

"I love you, Dad."

The words are out there before he's even consciously thought them, drawn from somewhere deeper within him; somewhere finally disinhibited by this hospital room, this sinking sadness and rising tide of regret. They've missed out on so much together; they barely even know one another anymore.

"I love you too, Fitz."

He wasn't expecting a reply, but his father's eyes are open again and shining with all the same emotions he's experiencing. It's been decades since either of them have uttered those words and they both smile.

"You should get some sleep," Fitz says, changing the subject before the moment starts to become awkward. This is strange, unchartered territory for them both. "I'll come back tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Marilyn's staying over at the house, she'll let you in."

"I know, I spoke to her when I landed. She's amazing."

"She sure is."

Fitz stands, letting go of his father's hand. "Why haven't you married her yet?" he asks, and not for the first time.

As usual, Big Jerry evades the question. He closes his eyes and turns his head away slightly, although his smile remains. "Goodnight, son."

"Night Dad."

Outside the room, Fitz speaks to his father's doctor. "How is he doing?"

"Really well," Dr Miller replies. She looks to be around Fitz's age and he detects a South African accent. "His body seems to have avoided major damage but his kidneys have taken a small hit from the low blood pressure caused by the bleeding. They should improve over the next few days. Fortunately he was fit and well to start with, which is a huge advantage when something like this happens."

"Yeah." He takes a moment to process what she's said. "So how long will he be here for?"

"Oh, I expect he'll be discharged to the ward in the morning. He'll need to stay on the infusion of acid-suppressing medication for forty-eight hours but if his blood tests have normalized and there are no signs of re-bleeding, he should be able to go home after that. He'll need to rest for a few weeks and complete a month's course of antibiotics."

It seems incredible to Fitz that someone can lose half their blood and be well enough to go home a few days later. Still, he's so glad his father will be able to attend the gala - as long as he promises to take it easy. He smiles and shakes Dr Miller's hand. "Thank you so much for looking after him, Doctor."

"It's no problem at all."

He texts Olivia on his way out of the hospital, letting her know that his dad is okay. He'd love to speak to her, to hear her voice, but she'll be asleep and he won't wake her again in the middle of the night like he did from Oxford - even though that phone call had a sensational ending. He drives his hire car to the ranch, his childhood home, and after a very brief chat with Marilyn, climbs the stairs to his former bedroom. It looks nothing like it did when he was a teenager - the whole house has been redesigned since then - but it's comforting to be here nonetheless.

There's a photograph of him and his mom on the dresser. He's ten years old and they're on holiday in Hawaii, both suntanned and showing off identical smiles. Fitz holds it in his right hand as he brushes his teeth and finds himself wishing that she was still here with him. He would love for her to meet Olivia. They'd get along so well: both so stylish, so smart, and with the same passion for improving the lives of others. He pictures his beloved mom holding her first grandchild on her lap - a beautiful, brown-skinned toddler who looks far more like Olivia than him - and for a moment the image is so real that he believes it could actually happen one day.

By the time he's climbed into bed, however, he's back in reality: there's only him and his dad left now. When he tries to imagine the same scene with Big Jerry in the picture, he just can't. And it hits him then, after everything that's happened today and the huge influence Olivia has already had on his life, that he needs to make amends with his father; that he _wants_ them to be a family again. He's gotten so used to their formal relationship, their sporadic contact and nothing more than an email on birthdays, that it's become their normal.

But he wants to see more of his dad; to be able to talk to him, to confide in him. He wants his children to love their grandfather the way Fitz loved his. His mother's death should have drawn them closer together but it just tore them apart - and that, as he's always known but managed to suppress for twenty years, is just the greatest shame.

There will always be things about his father that he dislikes, not least his numerous infidelities and his bullying attitude towards Fitz when he was young. But it feels like this is their opportunity to finally address the issues between them.

It feels like the time has come to forgive and forget.

* * *

Fitz brings his dad home from hospital on Wednesday evening. He's weak and very tired but otherwise back in his usual spirits - namely, flirting with every female from the medical students to the elderly volunteers who bring around the newspaper trolley. It's a habit which has always grated on Fitz but now, since his decision to try and be more understanding of his father, he can see that it's harmless; that the women aren't offended, even the ones young enough to be his grandchildren. In fact, most of them laugh and leave the room with smiles on their faces.

The Grant family charm.

They haven't had any further frank discussions since the Fitz's first visit. It didn't seem fair to unload all his emotions onto his father when he was still recuperating from his near-death experience; still sleeping most of the day. Marilyn stays by his bedside most of the time, reading Gabriel García Márquez or rearranging Jerry's schedule via email on her Macbook. She's a beautiful woman, her gray-blonde hair cut into a bob, her face always flawlessly made up. She looks much younger than her sixty-something years: it's the way she holds herself, the fire in her blue eyes. Fitz wonders how she ended up a politician's assistant when she's clearly very intelligent. He's longed to ask her for so many years but they're not exactly close, even though she's usually the one he speaks to whenever he tries to get hold of his father.

Olivia calls frequently, often for a quick hello between meetings or a longer chat during her evenings. He's missing her terribly: there's something about being back at the ranch, about bonding with his dad again over the news or the stock market (baby steps), that makes him long for her to be by his side. He's trying to play happy families but there's a vital piece of the puzzle missing.

Jerry asks after Mellie on his second day in hospital and Fitz automatically gives the usual spiel: "She's fine. Working a lot, as usual." Then he realizes he should call her, let her know that her father-in-law is unwell. They've always been fond of each other; in fact, their close relationship used to piss him off, to make him jealous.

"Mel, it's me," he says when she picks up the phone, standing in the empty kitchen back at the house. "How are you?"

"Fine. Working a lot."

He can't help but smile. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know that my dad's in hospital. He had a bleeding stomach ulcer but he's fixed up now and doing well."

Her tone changes; becomes softer. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, Fitz." He can tell she's being sincere. "What caused it?"

"Painkillers he was taking for his knee, apparently."

She sighs. "We'd been telling him for years to get that seen to."

"Yes, but you know what he's like."

"I do."

There's a comfortable pause. No matter that he's fallen in love with someone else: there are certain things, certain experiences, which will always bond Mellie and him together.

"Are you in California? Will you give him my love?" she asks.

"I am, and of course I will."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

He's about to hang up when she speaks again. "Have you told him yet? About us?"

"No, not yet. He's been through a lot, you know?"

She's quiet for several seconds - long enough for Fitz to worry that she's getting the wrong idea. "I will tell him," he says hurriedly. "He should be coming home tomorrow; I'll let him know then."

Mellie sighs. Was she holding onto hope? His heart begins to sink. "My lawyers received the initial papers from yours. Jemima King - good choice. She's exceptional."

He doesn't respond. What is she thinking?

"You cleared out the house," she goes on. "I thought we'd been robbed when I got home. You could have told me."

"I'm sorry," he says automatically, but he's frowning. She sounds confused, like she doesn't understand _why_ these things have happened. Has he not been clear enough? "Look, Mel, I want a divorce, and I'd like it to happen quickly and quietly. Let's just draw a line under this marriage so we can both move on. Isn't that what you want, too?"

"I guess so. I just… thought you might change your mind." It must be the week for honesty because he's never heard her sound so vulnerable before. He barely even knows this woman anymore and here she is, revealing her greatest weakness: the hope that her husband might still love her enough to stay.

It's so intimate that he feels suddenly awkward. "I won't," he says gently, wanting to spare her feelings even further and at the same time, desperate to end this conversation and never think about it again. "It's been over for a long time for me. We don't make each other happy, Mellie."

"How many people do we know who are happily married?" She's exasperated now, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I can't think of anyone! Marriages aren't supposed to be happy, Fitz. They're not _easy._ People pretend; they lie all the time. That's the way it works."

"What?" He's so shocked he has to sit down at the kitchen table. "Did _I_ do this to you? Did I make you feel like this? If I did, I'm so sorry. But I don't want a pretend marriage."

She doesn't speak for a while; when she does, her barriers are back up. "You've always been such an idealist. I used to find it endearing, but now… Well, I hope it gets you what you want."

Fitz isn't sure whether to take offence or to thank her. It doesn't even matter, really: he's already found the one person who will make him happy for the rest of his days. "I suppose I'll see you in the next few weeks with our lawyers?"

"Yes."

He sighs. "Take care, Mel."

"Goodbye, Fitz."

His forehead sinks down onto the table and he stays there awhile, running over their conversation until he has a headache. It still doesn't make sense: how can she want to stay married to him after they've done nothing but grow further apart? How is he enough for her now? She's never known love like the love he shares with Olivia - instant, all-consuming and forever - and he feels guilty that he couldn't be the one to show her what it feels like. But they just weren't meant to be, and the sooner they're divorced, the sooner she will have chance to go out and find real love.

And the sooner he can settle down into life with his Livvie.

* * *

He's busy all week, helping with preparations for the gala and keeping in regular contact with Cyrus. His father, only recently retired from the Senate, is as popular as ever: there are so many bunches of flowers in the house that Marilyn and Betty, his housekeeper, are running out of surfaces to put them on. Every few hours someone else drops by to see how he's doing, usually staying for a while. Fitz knows most of them, old friends and colleagues, and he finds he enjoys catching up and witnessing his father playing the host, despite the fact he's clearly exhausted. It's very impressive.

The two of them are definitely getting along better. Fitz hasn't yet told his father about the divorce - it just hasn't come up in conversation - but he discovers he is sharing more and more about his projects, his business and his trip to London. In return, Jerry is clearly interested and offers advice whenever Fitz questions something out loud. It's the closest they've felt to one another in years and when he tells Olivia this on the phone one afternoon, she's so pleased for him that he has trouble containing his emotions.

"That's amazing, Fitzy. You sound so happy."

"I am." He's grinning like an idiot, alone on the porch after all the contractors for the gala have gone home for the day, but he doesn't care. "I feel like we've missed out on so much of each other's lives. It's just sad that it's taken him almost dying for us to reconnect."

"Better late than not at all," she reasons. "What else have you talked about?"

It takes Fitz several minutes of general chit-chat to realize that what she really wants to know is whether or not he's told his dad about _them_. And he doesn't think she would be very happy to hear that he's currently still pretending to be married, so he steers the conversation back to her - with a _lot_ of guilt, and the silent assertion that he will reveal the truth at the next possible opportunity.

"How are your birthday plans coming along?"

"Great," she says, and he thinks maybe she's a little bit annoyed - or maybe he's just imagining it. "Abby's taking me for a Champagne breakfast followed by shopping before I meet my dad for lunch at Eleven Madison Park."

"Wow."

"I know. He booked it months ago. Then I'm spending the afternoon with the girls getting pampered and made up before we go out for dinner."

He smiles. "Sounds like you won't even have time to miss me."

"That was the idea."

He can picture the look on her face - defying him to call her out for being so needy - and it makes him long for her so fiercely he feels it as a physical force on his body, squeezing him like a vice.

"I _really_ miss you," he sighs.

"I really miss you too."

"Maybe I should fly home…"

"As much as I would love you to," she says softly, "You need this time with your dad. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here, waiting for you."

He closes his eyes and lets her words warm him from head to toe. She is just… everything. "Do you know how sweet you are?"

"No," she says cutely. "Tell me."

"You're so sweet I want to lick you all over."

She giggles. "That sounds dirty."

"It was meant to."

"Fitz!"

"What?"

They're both smiling: he can hear it all the way from New York City. "I can't wait to see you," she admits.

"Not long now, baby."

"And then no more trips away for a while, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees. She really is adorable.

"I should go get ready for my spinning class. Abby will be pissed if I'm late."

"Call me later?"

"Aw, don't you have anything better to do?" she teases.

"In a word… no."

"Fine," she laughs, "I'll call you. But only because you're desperate."

"And because you like me."

"Meh. You're alright."

Fitz grins. "I'll take that. Speak to you later, beautiful."

"Bye."

He ends the call and leans back in his chair, enjoying the late afternoon sun on his skin and the even greater glow Olivia gives him. But it's just seconds before he hears his father's voice: "When is Mellie's birthday, again?"

Fitz looks around to see Jerry walking slowly across the porch towards him. "July thirteenth. Why?"

His father doesn't reply until he's seated in the wicker chair next to Fitz's. "Seems a bit early for her to be organizing a party, doesn't it?"

Fitz gapes at him. "You were eavesdropping on my conversation?"

"Overhearing," he counters, waving his hand dismissively. This is the arrogant attitude Fitz has always hated. "It's different."

"Right. And how much did you hear, exactly?"

"Enough." Jerry is gazing at him as if he's never seen him before. "I have to say, son, I thought you were better than this."

It's as if the past few days of peacemaking have never happened. _"Me?"_ Fitz is suddenly so angry it's difficult to stay seated. "What about _you_?"

"Oh, I'm a lost cause," his father admits. "But I always hoped you wouldn't follow in my footsteps. Who is she?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Fitzgerald. That wasn't your wife on the phone. I rarely see you but I know you _never_ speak to her like that."

Fitz is on his feet and pacing without even realizing it, but Jerry keeps talking regardless. To be judged by this man - this man who broke his mother's heart time and time again - is so ridiculous it's almost laughable. "How dare you?" he asks quietly. All the bitterness and resentment he's been storing up for the last forty years has suddenly risen inside of him: it turns out such deeply-etched scars can't be healed through a few days of polite conversation. "You know nothing about my life. If you'd _ever_ had any interest in me, you'd know that Mellie and I haven't been happy together for years. You'd know that I left her almost two months ago, weeks before I met… someone else."

He doesn't want to give his dad Olivia's name; doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, nor the ammunition. And now that he's started this tirade, now that his wounds are open, he can't seem to stop himself from continuing. "I am _nothing_ like you, Dad. I haven't deceived my wife; we don't have any children to fuck up for the rest of their lives."

Jerry flinches. "You think I fucked you up?" he asks, his voice quiet now. His expression is a mixture of surprise and hurt: it would be difficult to look at if Fitz wasn't so blinded by rage.

"You certainly tried!" he yells. "You set possibly the worst example a father can to his son: do whatever you like, take whatever you want from anybody, no matter who gets hurt. Well, thank god for Mom, because without her and my own efforts trying to be anything _other_ than you, I hate to think who I'd have become. If we're so different, so estranged, it's because I've worked hard every single day to be the opposite of everything you are."

The fury is subsiding; he's becoming more aware of the look of horror on Jerry's face. "Sit down, son. Please."

He's wary; suddenly a young child again, afraid of the seriousness of his dad's tone. He takes a seat but right on the edge, unable to relax.

"I am sorry, Fitz. Really, truly sorry." He looks as broken as he did in his bed in the ICU. "I honestly didn't know you felt that way."

Fitz's skepticism must be obvious because Jerry continues quickly: "That sounds unbelievable, doesn't it? But I didn't. You've always been so independent, so successful on your own. I was pleased you weren't like me; that you inherited all of your mother's best qualities. As long as you seemed happy, it was easy for me to pretend that I'd been a good father - even though I knew I hadn't."

He's leaning forward now and the tears in his eyes are just unbearable to witness. "I had no idea you hated me quite so much, though. That hurts. It… really hurts."

Fitz finds that he's having to blink back his own tears. This is the most difficult conversation he's ever had. "I don't hate you. Not anymore," he says, trying hard to keep his voice even. He longs to break eye contact, to avoid the pain in his father's gaze, but he knows this is too important. "I did, for a long time. I hated you for what you did to Mom."

"What changed?"

"I don't know. Distance. Time." He shrugs. "Now I just want to understand why you did it, and why she stayed."

His dad is silent for a while, gazing out over the countryside as he thinks about his words. "I was selfish," he says eventually, looking back at Fitz. "You were right about me: I did what I wanted. I thought I was above reproach. I never loved any of those other women; it was just sex. But your mother… she was the love of my life." His voice has become thicker; there are tears on his cheeks now. "She was everything. And if I could take it all back I would, in a heartbeat."

It's difficult to see his father like this but they can't stop now, not when they've come so far. This is the very center of their bad relationship and it can't be left to rot any longer. "Why didn't she leave you?"

"Because she loved _you_! She would never have left you, and she knew I would never let her take you away. She fought like hell against her illness to stay with you, Fitz. Like _hell_ , day after day, for nearly two years _._ She lived eighteen months longer than her doctors predicted - for _you_."

He has never heard those words before and they break him: completely and utterly rip him apart. He covers his face with his hands as he sobs, missing his mother more acutely than he has since those first few, dreadful months after she passed away. Listening to his father speak about her, hearing how much she loved him, is as wonderful as it is heartbreaking.

He feels a hand on his shoulder which he covers with his own as he fights to control himself. Allison Attaway's only husband and son are finally united in their grief - only twenty-three years too late.

"She would never have fought for me like that," Jerry manages to say through his own tears. "I destroyed her and I regret that every single day. Your mother was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and she gave me you, and I know that I don't deserve either of you. I was wrong earlier: you're a far better man than I will ever be, son."

Fitz stands and pulls his father to his feet, hugging him tightly. They're the same height but he feels small again, craving the comfort of his parent. They stay like this for several long moments until he draws away, sniffing and wiping his eyes. Jerry looked as wrecked as he feels and they share an embarrassed smile.

"I bet she's laughing at us right now," Fitz says fondly, gazing skywards.

"I bet she's proud," Jerry corrects, making his son look back at him. Has he always been so profound, and Fitz just hasn't realized because he's been so busy trying to distance himself? "Do you mind making us a cup of tea?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of whiskey."

"Good idea."

He visits the bathroom first, to blow his nose and splash cold water on his face. His heart is still racing after all the revelations, all the emotions of the last half hour. He can't remember the last time he cried like this, and he doesn't think he's _ever_ seen his dad break down - not even when his mom died. He heard him of course, locked away in his study at night, but he's never witnessed it in person. It's both harrowing and reassuring: it's okay for grown men to cry sometimes, when they love someone more than they can bear. It's okay to admit that love makes them weak.

When he returns from the library, where all the best alcohol is kept, his dad is sitting at the kitchen table.

"Thank you," he says hoarsely. When he reaches for the glass his hand is shaking.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He takes a long drink. "Just tired."

Fitz studies him for a minute. "I never knew Mom's prognosis was so bad."

Jerry returns his gaze. "Would you have wanted to know, at that age?"

He considers. "No, probably not. But you could have told me afterwards."

"There are a lot of things I could have done afterwards; things I _should_ have done. I should have been strong for you, Fitz, because you needed me. I should have talked to you; we should have shared what we were feeling." He looks sadly at his son. "I could spend the rest of my time on this planet apologizing to you for all my failings. I will, if that's what you need to hear. I am truly, truly sorry. And I am unendingly proud of you, for everything you've done."

He raises his glass and Fitz lifts his too, overcome with affection for his dad. "If you make me cry again I'm never coming back to visit," he jokes.

"That's a shame, because I want to meet this new lady of yours one day. I want you to bring my grandbabies to stay."

Fitz almost chokes on his whiskey. "What?"

Jerry laughs, tipping his head back. "Don't look so surprised, boy. I've been hearing you on the phone all week. I assumed you were talking to Mellie until today, but it all makes perfect sense now. You're in deep with this girl, aren't you? You don't sound like that over just anybody."

"Sound like what?" he frowns. He feels like a teenager being interrogated by his older, wiser and very amused father.

"I'm not going to do an impression. I can't mimic your East Coast accent, for a start."

"I don't have an East Coast accent."

"You do."

They stare each other out until Fitz grins and looks away. "Aha!" Jerry exclaims. "I can still beat you after all these years."

"Shut up."

"Don't tell your father to shut up."

He scowls, playing the childish role just as expected. His dad sips his drink, smiling to himself. "So, are you getting a divorce?" he asks after a moment.

"Yes. We should be meeting with our lawyers in the next few weeks."

"And how does Mellie feel about all this?"

Fitz wonders whether to be completely honest, then decides that's going to be his only policy with his father from now on. "She was okay to start with, but I spoke to her on Tuesday and she seemed to think I might have changed my mind. Apparently most marriages are loveless and everyone is just pretending?"

Jerry shrugs. "I know a lot of marriages which are exactly like that. Toby and Jennifer Carlton; Roy and Lavinia Browne; Bill and Evelyn Meyers."

"Bill and Evelyn?" Fitz is surprised. Bill is the same guy he met at the conference in London - the one who looked at him suspiciously when he was staring at Olivia. "They've always seemed genuinely happy."

"Nope. Bill has all the same flaws I used to have, and Evelyn is just as bad. She tried to seduce me at their Christmas Eve dinner a few years back - in her own house."

"Wow." Fitz tucks this piece of information away in case he needs to defend himself against any accusations over the next few months - until he's a free man. "Well, we haven't been happy together for years."

"And this new girl - she makes you happy?"

"Her name is Olivia and yes, she does. I'd marry her tomorrow if I could." He can't stop himself from beaming and he's not embarrassed. "And what about Marilyn?"

Now it's Jerry's turn to look surprised. "What about her?"

"Come on, Dad. You two have been together for so long now. Why haven't you made it official?" He stays silent, gazing into the bottom of his glass. "It's okay, you know," Fitz presses. "To love her. Mom won't mind."

Their eyes meet again. "She's far more than I'll ever deserve. I just try to make her happy, after failing my own family for such a long time."

"She saved your life on Monday."

"She's been saving my life every day for the last twenty years." He sighs as he slowly gets to his feet. "I need to have a lie down. All this emotion is too much for an old man."

"You're not an old man yet."

"I feel like one." He ruffles Fitz's hair as he passes, making him smile.

"Dad?"

He turns. "Yes?"

"I'm so glad we talked."

"So am I, son. It took us far too long. I won't let that happen again."

 _Neither will I_ , Fitz vows after he's gone upstairs. And then he realizes that he, too, needs to lie down to process every incredible piece of information he has just heard, and the fact that the feud he has had with his father for most of his life might have finally ended for good.

* * *

They are so busy on Friday that there's no time for any more in depth conversations - something both Grant men are glad about, given their emotional exhaustion from the previous day. The entire front lawn of the ranch is buzzing with people, putting up tables in the center and small marquees around the perimeter which will host a variety of different chefs and bars. To the left of the house is a stage where technicians are setting up equipment; Rod Stewart is due at three for a sound check.

Fitz speaks to Olivia on FaceTime in the afternoon, giving her a very short version of his reconciliation with his father. He can't bear to go through the details again - not so soon. "I told him about you," he says, leaning against the back wall of the house. It's another hot day and he's sweating through his t-shirt. "Just your first name, and the fact that I think you're pretty damn special. He said he wants me to bring you to meet him."

She can't hide her joy: it obviously means a lot to her that he's shared their relationship with his dad. "That's exciting. I'd love to visit your childhood home one day. It looks stunning."

Fitz has been sending her photos of the ranch, of his favorite places within the grounds, of the spectacular sunsets. "It is. I'd love to live in the country again one day."

"In Vermont, right?"

"You remembered."

She shrugs, smiling cutely. "Of course. Because you like apples."

"Not as much as I like you."

"Well, obviously."

He's never wanted to kiss her so badly before. "Happy Birthday Eve, Livvie."

She giggles. "Is that a thing?"

"It is now."

"Well in that case, thank you very much."

Fitz smiles and absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair. "I wish I could see you tomorrow."

"I wish you could too, especially when you look like that."

"Like what?" He glances down at himself.

"All hot and glistening in that tight t-shirt."

He flexes his bicep for her and she laughs loudly, disappearing from the screen for a moment. "Oh Fitz," she sighs happily. "You're so silly."

"Oh. I was hoping for 'sexy', or maybe 'ripped'."

"It's okay. Silly is good. My favorite thing about you is the way you make me laugh all the time." He's never heard her say that before and it makes him so content. "What's your favorite thing about me?" she goes on.

He pretends to consider for a moment. "Your boobs."

"Fitz!"

"Sorry," he grins. "I meant to say your butt."

"That's no better!"

"Why not? You have an amazing derrière."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna go now, if this is how low the conversation has stooped."

"Don't! I miss you. I hate being apart."

"Only two days now. Aren't you excited for the gala?"

"Yeah, it's a great day. But I have to be on my best behavior: no drinking, plenty of socializing. It's exhausting."

"Oh, poor Fitzy."

"I know. I'm gonna need a very long back rub on Sunday."

"No chance," she laughs. "I will no doubt be incredibly hungover, if my last six birthdays are anything to go by."

"You'd better not be too hungover for reunion sex."

"I might be. You might have to wait even longer."

"I don't know if that will be possible." He can hear someone calling his name from inside the house. "I have to go, baby. I'm needed for some other job."

"Okay. I'll call you before I go to sleep."

"You'd better."

He makes another quick call to the New York florist he's already been in touch with, checking his delivery is ready for the morning, before heading inside to carry on with preparations.

* * *

When he wakes at seven AM the next day his phone screen is already full of text messages from Olivia: _THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS!_ followed by several floral emoticons and little yellow faces with heart-shaped eyes and kissing lips. He calls her on FaceTime straight away.

"Happy birthday to you," he sings as soon as she picks up, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. He even yawns right in the middle of the song which makes her giggle.

"Thank you baby," she says sweetly. She's at home, looking gorgeous and glowing. "The flowers are beautiful. You really didn't need to send four bunches."

"Of course I did - it's your birthday. I thought you could put one in every room."

"I have done. And thank you for the Dom Perignon - I thought we could drink some this evening while we're getting ready, but I'll save a couple of bottles for the two of us."

"Are we going to be celebrating something?"

"Who knows?" she shrugs, smiling. "There's always something to celebrate when there's Champagne in the fridge."

"Very true. I'll bring the rest of your present to you tomorrow."

"There's more?"

"Oh yes."

She beams at him. "You're too good to me."

"I'm not good enough. I'm not there to give you a birthday kiss."

"You'll just have to make it up to me."

"I will, don't you worry."

She briefly tells him about her morning with Abby before she needs to leave to meet her dad. "I'll text you later," she says. "Or call me if you get a break."

"I don't want to interrupt your girly afternoon. Enjoy your time with your friends before I come back and steal you away again."

"I like the sound of that." Her silky voice is low and oh so tempting.

"Mmm," he sighs, "Me too. Have an amazing day, sweet baby. I'll be thinking about you." He blows a kiss which she pretends to catch between her fingers and place on her lips.

"Thank you, Fitzy."

"Anything for you, Birthday Girl."

He showers and dresses, meeting his father and Marilyn downstairs for breakfast. He's in a bad mood and he knows why: he _really_ wants to be back in New York, with his girl, on her birthday. He escapes outside as soon as he can, busying himself with as many tasks as he can manage at once. It takes his mind off her for a while and before he knows it, it's eleven o'clock and the first guests are going to be arriving in an hour.

He grabs a bottle of water from one of the bars and goes to stand beside Marilyn on the front steps of the house. "You've been busy," she comments in her delicate English accent, unchanged after all these years in the States.

"It looks good, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does."

There's a comfortable silence between them as they watch the staff making last minute adjustments. After several minutes, Marilyn finally speaks again. "I'm so glad you came, Fitz. Jerry has been a changed man since you've cleared the air."

He glances sideways at her, surprised. "We've started to. I think it will take a lot longer for it to settle completely."

"Still. Thank you." She turns and smiles at him. "He loves you fiercely, you know."

Fitz looks at her for a long time as she continues to observe the arena in front of them, seemingly unaware of him.

"Why have you stayed with him all this time, in the shadows?" Days ago he would have thought that such a personal question, but he doesn't believe in family secrets anymore. "How has that been enough for you?"

He's thinking of his and Olivia's relationship, of course. He hadn't realized until now that Marilyn will know exactly how she might be feeling.

The older woman turns to face him again. She doesn't look remotely upset or offended by his question. "I ran away from my husband when I was forty-three. He beat my daughter and I for years. A friend finally convinced me to leave him and we came here, to California. Your father employed me as his assistant despite the fact I'd never done a job like it before. I was an English teacher back in Sussex."

Fitz finds her smile is even more beautiful, now that he knows what she's been through. "It was difficult at times, with Jerry mourning the loss of your mother and me, terrified of men in general. But we had an undeniable connection, and he was always so kind to me. I'll never forget that."

She pauses, looking wistfully into the distance. "In answer to your question, Fitz: my relationship with your father is complicated but he makes me smile, instantly, whenever I see him. It doesn't matter if we've been apart two weeks or two hours. And I think that kind of happiness is worth _everything_."

Fitz pictures Olivia and the way she smiles at him; he remembers how he feels like his heart might burst with joy each time he sees her. And to make her smile, to _really_ make her happy, on her birthday would be... the best feeling in the world. "I need to go," he says suddenly.

"Okay."

"No, I mean back to New York. I'm sorry."

Marilyn studies him. She's very smart; far smarter than his father. Maybe that's one thing they both have in common: their taste in intelligent women. "I think you've done all you can here, for now," she says, and she's not referring to his help preparing the gala. "She's a lucky girl, Fitz. You have all the best qualities of your father - his loyalty, his passion, his kindness - and none of his worst."

He doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't seem to mind.

"Take good care of him," he says, pulling her into a hug.

She kisses his cheek. "I always will."

"Can you say goodbye to him for me? I don't think I can handle an emotional scene right now."

"He'll understand. Come back and visit us soon."

"I will. I promise."

He's in his hire car and driving to the airport less than two minutes later. This is the most impulsive, most rational decision he's ever made. He hits the steering wheel with his palm in excitement and whoops out of the open window.

"Livvie, baby, I'm on my way."


	16. Is There Nothing He Won't Do For Her?

**Sorry for the delay. As ever, a huge and heartfelt thank you to all my readers. I'm super excited to post this, and even more so for the next chapter. Watch this space!**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Is There Nothing That Man Won't Do For Her?**

As birthdays go, Olivia thinks this one has been pretty good so far. She had a great morning with Abby: they drank Champagne with their Eggs Royale in one of the best hotel bars in Manhattan; went on a very successful shopping trip through all their favorite boutiques; laughed until their abs hurt in that way only best friends can.

Lunch with her dad was equally nice, if not quite so carefree. She's always on her best behavior with him: smartly dressed, perfectly mannered. She's never uttered a single swear word in his presence and she doesn't intend to start now, even at the age of grand age of twenty-seven. His expectations are high and she's his only child: she couldn't bear to disappoint him. Which is why, when he asked what was new in her life, she decided not to mention Fitz. She hasn't even begun to imagine how she will explain her love affair with a married man thirteen years her senior to her very serious, straight-laced father. She's heard enough of his judgments of friends, colleagues and strangers on the news to know exactly what he'll say and she's not ready to hear that yet; not until she has her defense fully prepared and ready.

They departed the restaurant, full of the most incredible food, with a hug and a promise to see each other more often. As one of the country's most eminent zoologists Eli travels a lot from his home on the outskirts of the city, lecturing at universities and curating exhibits both in the US and abroad. And Olivia herself is always so busy that sometimes months go by before they both find time to meet up, even though they live so close. Their relationship has been difficult since her mother's death but as she gets older, she's finding she enjoys spending time with her dad more and more; that maybe their wounds are beginning to heal.

Her afternoon of pampering with Abby and Quinn is so much fun. She's hired out a spa and they spend several hours sipping Dom Perignon and rotating between massages, facials and mani-pedis. By the end, as they rush home to get ready for the evening, Olivia doesn't think she's ever felt so good. And yet, in the quiet moments between jokes or whenever Quinn mentions her boyfriend Charlie, she feels a desperate ache for Fitz. She misses him intensely; while her friends and family have been a wonderful distraction all day, she can't stop herself from longing for him. She just wants to see his beautiful face, his incredible smile; she wants to bury herself in his arms and breathe in his scent and let him kiss her until the whole world falls away. It's ridiculous really, that she needs him so much already… but at the same time, it just doesn't feel ridiculous at all.

She calls him, hiding in her own kitchen while her two friends are curling their hair in her bedroom and singing along to 90s pop (their usual pre-night out playlist). When his phone goes straight to Voicemail she hangs up, chiding herself for being so pathetic, for letting herself get down when she should be celebrating. She'll see him tomorrow afternoon; it's really not that long away.

"You okay?" Abby asks, jolting her out of her reverie.

Olivia manages a smile. "Yeah. You look amazing."

Abby grins and does a twirl in her Stella McCartney little black dress and Valentino heels. "Thanks. If I can't find a super sexy, super rich guy in this, I think I'm destined to be alone forever." Her gaze falls to the phone in Olivia's hand. "How's Fitz?"

"Not answering." She shrugs, forcing herself to put her sad thoughts aside and cheer up. "He's probably just really busy. Anyway, I should get ready."

"You should! There's only forty minutes till the car comes to pick us up and, as much as I love you, I will not let you go out in your bathrobe on your birthday."

Olivia laughs. "Aw, thanks Abs. I knew we were friends for a reason." She steps forward and hugs her a little more tightly than usual, overwhelmingly grateful for her friendship right now.

"Are you getting all emotional on me?"

"No. Well, maybe a little." She gives her friend her brightest smile. "Blame it on the Champagne."

"Or on Fitz, for making you so needy."

Olivia doesn't reply, powerless to defend herself when they both know it's true. At that moment Quinn comes in, singing _Wannabe_ and heading straight for the fridge. "Time for more bubbles!" she exclaims, oblivious to her friends laughing at her. She fills up their glasses, still dancing along to the music, her gold sequined dress sparkling beneath the kitchen spotlights.

"Liv, you need to get dressed! Not that you don't look hot already, of course."

In the two years Quinn has worked for her they've become really close, so it's not unusual for her to talk about her boss like that. "I know. I'm on my way."

"Great. I'm so excited! Tonight is gonna be so much fun."

"Happy birthday, Liv," Abby says with a fond smile, holding out her drink in a toast.

"Happy birthday!"

"Thank you!"

* * *

"Well hey there, birthday girl! You look incredible, as always."

Olivia grins as she hugs Harrison, her PR manager and very good friend. She feels incredible too, wearing her new Hervé Léger bodycon dress in a dazzling shade of red, cut low over her chest, clinging to her waist and hips, ending at mid-thigh level. Her hair is loosely curled and falls past her shoulders; shimmering gold earrings hang down the length of her neck, almost touching her collar bones. Her favorite pair of black suede, five-inch Jimmy Choo sandals finish off her look, which is a little bold for the restaurant but will fit right in when they continue to the club later on. If only Fitz could see her right now… She pictures the look of desire on his face, the way his hungry eyes would roam over her body - and then forces herself to stop, because it's turning her on.

"Hey Harri. Thank you so much for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. You remember Kelsey?" He re-introduces his girlfriend.

"Of course. How are you?"

"I'm great. Thank you for inviting me. Happy birthday!" The two women hug and Kelsey smiles as she hands Olivia a card and a small, wrapped gift.

"Aw, thank you."

The couple make their way past Olivia to take their seats at the table, greeting the other guests as they pass. There's Abby, Quinn and Charlie, and Huck and his wife Kim. She met Huck exactly six years ago today, on her twenty first birthday: he was one of the bar tenders at the club where she was celebrating. She'd had far too much to drink and he rescued her from herself, feeding her water and making sure she got home safely. Two days later - after she'd fully recovered from her hangover - she went back to say thank you and made a very calm, thoughtful and fiercely loyal friend.

It's a small dinner, just eight of them seated in the private dining room of Per Se, with its view over the restaurant on one side and Central Park and the Manhattan skyline on the other. Olivia has always preferred having a few, close friends than a larger group. As a child, it was because she was shy; now, with her name in the media every other day, it's because she needs to know she can trust the people around her.

She sits down between Abby and Huck, facing the gorgeous view, just as their server arrives. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman. My name is Yves and I will be looking after you tonight. First of all, may I wish you a very happy birthday, Miss Pope."

"Thank you," she beams.

"Now, there is a two-thousand-dollar bar tab courtesy of a Mr Thomas Attaway." Olivia's heart skips a beat. Is there nothing that man won't do for her? She can sense the curious looks of her friends but, fortunately, Yves is continuing his speech. "Here is our wine list for your perusal. Our sommelier is one of the best in the country, and I will ask him to come over and advise you. In the meantime, would you like still or sparkling water for the table?"

"One of each, please," Olivia requests, knowing the group well.

"Certainly," Yves says with a smile before retreating from the room.

"Who's Thomas Attaway?" Quinn asks as soon as he's gone.

"Oh… Just a friend. Of my dad's."

"Wow. Some friend."

"I know."

She catches Abby's eye, who mouths: "Fitz?"

Olivia nods subtly, unable to hide her smile at the impressed look on Abby's face. "How did he know we were eating here?" she asks quietly as the rest of the group engage in conversation.

"He called me at the office earlier this week," her friend admits. "He asked me what our plans were."

"And you didn't mention this?"

"He told me not to. He wanted to surprise you." Her blue eyes soften, matching the feeling inside Olivia's heart. "He is _such_ a nice guy, Liv. He clearly adores you. I can't imagine any man I know doing something like this for his girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend," she sighs. "I don't think a married man can have one of those."

"Well, whatever you are, you're obviously really special to him. I'm sure he'd be here if he could."

"I know."

"Hey Liv," Huck interrupts from her other side, "What have you been up to lately? We haven't seen you for ages."

Her brilliant friends keep her distracted and entertained all the way through their starters and into their main courses, their fifth and sixth bottles of wine. Fitz might not be here but she's known these people for so long and she loves them all a very great deal. The delicious food, the vintage red in her glass and the incredible view of the city have all combined to make her feel perfectly content, even without the love of her life to share it.

And then, sometime around nine o'clock, everything changes.

Abby is just finishing a story about how she almost got expelled from high school for trying to seduce the boys' gym teacher. As everyone tries to control their laughter, she takes a sip of her wine and lets her gaze wander casually towards the restaurant - and suddenly she's choking. Olivia quickly passes her a napkin as she struggles to swallow, her eyes wide, attempting to gesture with her arms but having to hold onto her chest instead.

"Liv," she gasps after a few seconds, barely allowing herself time to recover. "Fuck. He's here."

"Who?"

She turns; at the very same moment she sees him, Abby says his name and it's a good job she does, because otherwise Olivia would never have believed it.

" _Fitz!"_

The world stops turning; time slows down. Their eyes meet and now there's no one else here, no one else on the whole planet. Her heart is frantic, trying to beat its way out of her chest - to him. A huge wave of emotion is rising inside of her; everything she's ever felt for this man is coming together, a rush of affection and lust and love so powerful it sweeps away all other thoughts and feelings. She tries to blink back tears but it's no use - more come, settling on her lower lashes, blurring her vision.

She just cannot believe it. He's _here_ , in New York, on her birthday. All of him: his gorgeous smile, his handsome face; his body in that beautifully-tailored suit, so strong and so sexy. She watches him on the other side of the glass, looking nowhere but at her, and realizes she's on her feet now and that her whole body is shaking. In a few seconds she'll be in his arms and it feels like far too long; an entire, excruciating lifetime of waiting for the one thing she wants above all else.

His scent enters the room with him, masculine and fresh and so familiar, so comforting. He doesn't even glance at the dining table, at the people watching him with undisguised curiosity; he has eyes only for her.

"Hi, Livvie."

Now he's right here, right in front of her. She tries to speak but she just can't: this is all too much. She reaches for him instinctively, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. He's so reassuringly solid, so warm and she holds him fiercely, afraid to let go in case he disappears. She breathes him in as tears spill onto her cheeks, as he holds her just as tightly.

"Happy birthday, beautiful girl," he murmurs into her ear and she can tell he's feeling emotional about their reunion as well. After a moment he tries to draw back, to let her go, but she won't allow him.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispers, her voice trembling as she struggles to control herself.

"I had to see you," he replies, his palms running up and down her back. "I missed you so much."

Olivia finally releases him, just enough to be able to look at his face. The urge to kiss him is almost overwhelming and she can see his gaze has fallen to her mouth too; that he's fighting the same battle. What she wouldn't give to be able to make out with him right now: to feel his lips on hers, his tongue delving and tasting as he presses her up against the glass wall, his hard body…

"Ahem," a voice says, trying to disguise the noise as a cough. It takes her several long moments to let it penetrate her hazy mind, to let reality begin to creep in around the edges once again.

Birthday. Restaurant. Friends.

"Abby," Fitz says smoothly, turning to greet her friend with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. Olivia hurriedly wipes away her tears with her fingers and tries to ignore the six pairs of eyes which are staring at her from the table.

"Everyone, this is Fitz," Abby announces with a slightly nervous glance at Olivia. "He's a… friend of Liv's."

Olivia picks up her wine glass and takes a sip, hoping to hide her embarrassment and the fact she's so shaken. She doubts it's working, but at least it takes the pressure off and gives her a moment to recover herself while Fitz says hello to all her guests.

"I'm sorry, did you say ' _friend'_ of Liv's?" Harrison asks Abby after he's shaken Fitz's hand with genuine interest. It's clear that everyone is skeptical about this definition and, given the intimate display they've just witnessed, Olivia isn't surprised.

Abby turns to her, helpless to answer. She takes a deep breath and looks at Fitz, who smiles encouragingly. He will back her up no matter what she says. "He's… We're…"

"We're dating," Fitz clarifies when it becomes clear she has no idea how to label them. He's so confident, so mature, addressing a group of strangers with such effortless class. She's usually an excellent public speaker but she's very envious of his skills right now.

"Yes," she breathes, and the way he's looking at her makes her blush and take another drink of her wine.

Fortunately Yves appears, sparing her from saying anything further. "Would you like another chair for your guest, Miss Pope?"

"Yes please."

She sits down as Abby, the absolute saint that she is, starts up a completely different conversation about what everyone is planning to order for dessert. Fitz crouches beside her, taking her hand, running his thumb over her skin. "Was that okay?" he asks quietly.

Olivia lovingly brushes her fingers through his curls. She doesn't usually believe in public displays of affection but right now, when he's flown across the country for her, she just doesn't care. "Yes. It's the truth."

He gazes at her, his blue eyes full of love. "You really are beautiful. I'd forgotten just how beautiful."

She falls deeper. "Thank you."

"I really want to kiss you."

"I really want you to. But I'm scared we might not be able to stop."

"And there's an entire restaurant of people who can see us."

"And that." They share a smile. "I still can't believe you came all this way. What about the gala?"

"What about it? It's nothing. Being with my girl on her birthday is a thousand times more important."

Hearing him call her 'my girl' makes her heart flutter madly. Yves reappears with another chair just as she's debating whether kissing Fitz right here would really be such a bad idea.

"Would you like to order something to eat?" he asks Fitz as he settles between Olivia and Abby.

"I don't want to put anyone out-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Abby interrupts. "You're not putting us out. As long as you don't mind eating your main while we have dessert, because I can't wait any longer to try the salted caramel chocolate tart. I've worked out every day for the last two weeks for this."

Everyone laughs. "Okay," Fitz concedes, amused. "In that case, I'd love to order. I'm starving."

"I'll bring you the menu, Sir."

"Thanks."

The rest of the meal passes in a blur. With Fitz by her side, everything is perfect. They share some of the story of how they met, sparing the details she gave Abby about their instantaneous connection and instead focusing on the things they did and places they visited in London. When she excuses herself to visit the bathroom, Quinn goes with her and asks a load more questions including how old he is and why she's been keeping him a secret. At first her friend and assistant is a little annoyed to have been out of the loop but once she sees how loved up Olivia is (something she can't hide, no matter how hard she tries), she mellows and congratulates her on finding him.

"He's so dreamy," Quinn sighs, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. "But don't tell Charlie I said that."

"Of course not."

When they return to the table, long after ten o'clock and their fourteenth bottle of wine, the atmosphere is much more informal. Yves has drawn a silk screen across the inner window, hiding them from the restaurant. Fitz sees her approaching and pulls her down to sit on his lap. She's too enamored by him to protest, having been craving this close contact since he arrived.

"Hi baby," he says next to her ear. He seems to have caught up with them in terms of alcohol consumption: he's not slurring but he's very relaxed.

"Hi. Are you having fun?"

"Absolutely." His hand slides over her abdomen, palm flat; his little finger tantalizingly close to the low waistband of her lacy panties. He's watching her face, enjoying seeing how much he's turning her on with only the barest of touches. "How could I not be having fun with you here, looking like this? I love this red dress. You are sexy as _hell_ right now."

Olivia is already so wet she could straddle him right this second and take him deep inside of her. She notices his gaze drifting down to her chest, the bare valley between her breasts, and he's growing hard beneath her thigh.

"Bad boy," she sighs, shifting slightly, teasing him.

"I know. You make me want to be _so_ bad, sweet baby."

His mouth is agonizingly close to hers and she's almost kissing him when she answers in a very sultry voice: "You can be… later."

"How much later?"

"Alright lovebirds," Harrison says loudly, interrupting the moment - which is probably for the best. "We've decided it's time to move on. I take it you're still coming out?"

"Yes," Olivia answers, forcing herself to withdraw from Fitz's proximity and stand up. She offers him her hand, subtly lowering her eyes to his groin as he rises to his feet.

He smirks at her and, after she's picked up her purse, stands close behind with his fingers on her hip. "See something you like?" he murmurs, his breath tickling her cheek. He presses his lips there briefly and she turns her head, hoping for more. Instead of anything physical, the shameless look of desire he gives her, biting his bottom lip as he smiles devilishly, makes her breath catch and her core throb.

His question goes unanswered. He must already know that the answer is 'yes'.

They take taxis to Provocateur and settle into the booth reserved under Olivia's name. They toast to her birthday (again) with Champagne, which reminds her that Fitz paid for the bar tab at Per Se and she hasn't thanked him yet. She tells the rest of the group this and they all toast him as well: "To Fitz!"

"Thank you so much for that," she says softly, having to lean close to be heard over the music. "You really shouldn't have."

"I wanted to." He tenderly tucks her hair behind her ear. "I want to spoil you every chance I get - you need to learn to accept it."

If they were anywhere else, he'd be kissing her right now. It's almost enough to make her want to leave.

The night moves on. She dances several times with her friends, who are becoming increasingly more drunk while she sticks to water. Charlie and Quinn can barely stand but somehow they keep going without a single break. "They're crazy," Olivia tells Fitz when she returns, out of breath. "They spend most weekends at raves, usually until five or six AM. I don't know how they do it."

"I think it's cute," he replies. "It's their thing. I missed you, by the way, while you were gone."

The two of them are currently alone in the booth: Harrison, Huck and their other halves are still dancing and Abby is being chatted up by several men at the bar. If they weren't in full view of the public - she's already been spotted by numerous fans who've come over to say hi - she would definitely be sitting in Fitz's lap again.

"You should have come too."

"You know I can't dance."

"You know I don't care."

They grin at each other. "What's our thing?" Oliva wonders aloud, trying to ignore the way his hand is stroking her thigh beneath the table.

"Really, really, _really_ hot sex," he says without pausing, his voice low. It sends a shiver right through her.

"Fitz…"

"What?" He moves closer. The heat of his body is caressing the bare skin of her arms, her legs and it's almost unbearable. "Don't you think it's true? The way we are when we're together… You get so wet for me, baby, and I'm always so hard for you."

She gasps and he groans. "I love the sounds you make, Livvie. When I suck on your nipples, you make these breathy moans, and when I'm lying between your legs, licking you out, you whimper my name… Sometimes, when you come, you scream and it makes me lose my fucking mind."

She can't tear her eyes away from his: they're so dark, so honest, so utterly lustful. Everything hits her all at once. She needs him: all of him, all over her, _right now_.

"Come with me," she says hoarsely. "No protests this time."

She takes his hand and leads him across the room, weaving her way across the bar and onto the dance floor. She doesn't stop at the edge but continues until they're right in the center, completely surrounded by hundreds of other people. Here, at last, they are strangers.

Fitz holds her close, using the cover of darkness to firmly squeeze her ass with one hand while his other slides over her waist, her breast. She rises into him helplessly, shuddering as his fingers brush over her nipple, as burning hot liquid pools between her legs. They're moving to the music subconsciously, carried along with the crowd which is pressing into them on all sides. There are enough strobe lights for Olivia to see his face, to anticipate the moment he can't take it any more: the moment he just has to kiss her.

When it happens, it's explosive.

Their mouths meet, open; their tongues so desperate to taste each other again. She tries to keep looking into his eyes because the way he stares at her when they kiss is so fucking hot, but she's so turned on that it's impossible to do anything other than _let go_.

He devours her - that's the only word for it. She can't breathe and that's okay, because this is far better and far more important than breathing anyway. His big hands are all over her, roaming up and down her back, beneath her dress, between her legs. It's all she can do to stay on her feet, to grind against him in time to the heavy bassline as he touches every part of her, body and soul. His lips move to her neck and she gasps for air as he bites down, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. She's in sensory overload: without sight or any sound other than the music, his smell and taste and the feel of him is driving her insane. After their time apart and their emotional reunion this evening, she's teetering right on the edge of oblivion.

He kisses his way back to her mouth, ravishing her for several long minutes until he finally takes her hips and turns her around, so her back is now along his front. He must have willpower of steel; either that, or he's enjoying himself far too much to take her home just yet. She can hear him groaning into her ear as she starts to move her body against his, letting the music take control of her. His arm holds her tightly around the waist, his other hand caressing her tight, aching breast. His kisses along her neck and shoulder send tremors through her bones; the size and strength of his erection against the base of her spine makes her wetter than ever.

"You're so sexy," he says into her ear, so close he doesn't even have to shout. "So beautiful, baby."

Olivia turns her face and kisses him, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. It's messy and sweaty and glorious; the most incredible foreplay of her life. They stay there for several more tracks, lavishing attention on each other until Fitz looks into her eyes, holding her face in his palms, and she can see he's reached his limit.

The rest of the group is sitting in the booth when they pass, minus Abby. "We're going," Olivia announces, and she suspects they can all tell what she and Fitz have been up to because she feels as disheveled as he looks.

"Great. We'll come too," Harrison says, his arm around Kelsey who looks like she's about to fall asleep.

"Us too," Huck says.

"Quinn?"

"We're going to 1 OAK. You guys should definitely come!"

"We'll pass, thanks. Maybe next time."

"That's what you always say," Charlie chimes in, emptying the last of the Champagne into his glass and downing it. "You need to man up, Liv."

"Okay," she laughs. "I'll try. Where's Abby?"

"She left with a bunch of guys about ten minutes ago," Harrison says. "She did try to find you before she went."

Olivia sends her best friend a quick text on their way out, thanking her for an amazing day and telling her to get home safely. _I LOVE YOU!_ is the uncharacteristically affectionate response, which makes her smile.

Outside they queue together for taxis. It's gotten a lot colder in the last week and she shivers despite her coat. Huck has to go back inside, realizing he's forgotten to collect his and Kim's jackets from the cloakroom; Fitz, ever the gentleman, wraps his around Kim's shoulders and holds her against his side to keep her warm. He keeps his gaze fixed on Olivia though, much like he has done all night. Her body is still buzzing, wide awake from his touch, and the look of desire in his eyes only intensifies the burn.

Finally, after hugging everyone in turn and thanking them for making her evening so special, she and Fitz are alone in a cab. She snuggles into him, their fingers linked together.

"Have you had a good birthday?" he asks quietly, kissing her lips several times before and after his words.

"The _best_."

He beams at her. "Anything in particular that made it so great?"

"Hmm," she says, pretending to think. "I don't know. This guy decided to cross the country to see me - that was nice."

"Just nice?"

He's pressing kisses to her cheek, her jaw, making it hard to concentrate. "Mmm. More than nice. The nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"That's more like it," he smiles before his mouth meets hers again, the first in a series of long, luxurious kisses. His hands are beginning to wander again, slipping underneath the hem of her dress. The fire that he'd stoked inside of her is rapidly reigniting from the embers, fueled by how much he needs her, by how much she loves him.

This time when they arrive at Henry's house, they're kissing long before they reach the front door. Freed from the confines of the taxi, their lust for each other expands into the night, filling the quiet air around them with sharp intakes of breath and muffled moans. She finally has him all to herself after five long days of solitude and that realization leaves her desperate to get him naked; to take what she needs and to give him everything she can in return.

They stumble into the house; Fitz manages to switch on a light before the door slams behind them and he pushes her up against the wall simultaneously. He's ravenous now, his kisses wild as she rids him of his jacket and starts work on his belt and pants. In sharp contrast to the club, which was so loud, everything is so quiet now that all their sounds are magnified: each caress of their lips; the brush of his fingertips on her bare thighs; the softness of her lacy thong as he eases it down her legs and onto the floor. He stays on his knees and puts his mouth on her, swirling his tongue over her hot flesh, sending shockwaves through her body. She moans his name, just as he likes, and he growls in return and slips his finger inside of her.

"Oh my _god_ ," she whimpers, because every sensation is converging beneath his tongue and she can't take much more. She grabs his shoulders and makes him stand: he kisses her instantly, sharing her taste as he enters her with a second finger.

"Fuck, Livvie," he groans as she tries to resume her task of ridding him of his clothes, running her palm over him several times in the process. "You are so fucking sexy. This dress, these heels…"

He pulls down the cups of her dress and bra to expose her breasts, the red material now just covering her abdomen. His lips close around her left nipple and she arches off the wall as if struck by lightning. "Fitz," she pleads as his pants and boxers finally fall towards the ground. He doesn't even kick them off, just lifts her right leg off the ground and around his waist. He removes his fingers and now she can feel his tip at her entrance, just testing her warmth, her heat.

"Baby," he sighs, rocking his hips ever so slightly, teasing her unbearably. She meets his stormy blue eyes and realizes why he's pausing. She uses her right leg to pull him towards her; his gaze falters as he sinks into her, as her muscles grip him and she becomes even wetter around him.

"Fuck me," she whispers, cradling his handsome face in her hands. She kisses him softly, feeling his body twitch. "We don't need condoms anymore. I'm on the pill."

He stares at her for a moment, trying to comprehend. "You're…"

"Surprise."

The message hits: suddenly he's moving, sliding rapidly in and out of her with his entire length, filling her right to the hilt as his mouth crashes down onto hers. It's more than enough to conjure a mini-orgasm and she has to break away to cry out as her pelvic muscles contract vigorously, flooding her with pleasure.

"More," she says and he moves faster, holding her firmly in place against the wall, his grunts disappearing into their furious kisses.

"Missed you," he murmurs, his teeth grazing her neck during a brief break for air.

"Missed you too. So much."

She slides her hand down between their bodies, gripping the very base of his cock between two of her fingers for several thrusts - which makes him _crazy_ \- before turning her attention to her clit. "Come for me," he says throatily and she knows he's close too, his rhythm frantic now.

It only takes a few, quick circles for her to fall off the edge; she lets him take her the rest of the way, moaning incoherently as she comes hard, as he follows. There are stars at the edges of her vision; her chest can barely move quick enough to bring her the oxygen she needs. Fitz holds her close, his face buried in her hair until he's recovered enough to kiss his way to her mouth again.

"Wow," he murmurs, making her smile.

"I know."

She kisses him again, savoring him. It's been far too long since she's been able to do this and she's planning to make the most of it every day from now on.

Fitz slowly lowers her leg back to the ground. "Um… now what?" he asks sheepishly, still inside her.

Olivia can't help but laugh. "You'll have to pull out and go get me a tissue. I'll stay here with my legs closed. _So_ glamorous," she jokes. "Condoms do have their upsides."

"I'd forgo glamor to be bare inside you any day," he replies seriously. "Every day, in fact. Ready?"

"Yep."

He withdraws from her and steps out of his pants and boxers before moving quickly to the bathroom across the hall. He looks hilarious, with his shirt still on but his bottom half bare. "You're so sexy right now," she comments and when he returns, he's grinning.

"Thanks babe. So are you."

She looks down at herself, exposed and still wearing her heels. "We're a classy pair, aren't we?"

"We sure are."

She tucks the tissue between her legs - what's there to be embarrassed about, really, when they've just seen each other at their most intimate? - and goes into the bathroom to clean up. She hasn't missed this messy side of unprotected sex, but he's right - it's so worth it to feel him naked inside of her. She strips off her dress, bra and shoes, replacing only her thong. When she searches for Fitz, she finds him in his bedroom with the en suite shower running.

"I thought you might like to wash up properly," he says, taking her into his arms and gazing down at her lovingly. "That, and I'd _really_ like to fuck you again."

She giggles. "With birthday sex and reunion sex, we do have a lot of ground to make up."

"We do." He tilts her chin with his finger and kisses her softly; she feels like the most important person in the whole world. "Happy birthday Livvie. The first of many we'll celebrate together."

She absolutely cannot wait.

* * *

The next morning, Olivia wakes up alone in his bed. She rolls over and stretches; her whole body is aching, no doubt from the dancing and the incredible amount of fucking they did last night. Fitz played with her in the shower, teasing her with his soapy hands until they were on their knees and he was pounding into her from behind as she cried out his name like a prayer. Then, after washing each other down yet again, they cuddled up in bed and he kissed her all over, sucking and nibbling on her clit until she came and then making love to her until they were one orgasmic, exhausted mess.

Her birthday started out pretty good, but the way it ended was nothing short of mind-blowing.

Now, however, she can feel her head pounding; her mouth is so dry and tastes of alcohol, even though she brushed her teeth before bed, and she's nauseous. She tries to check the time on her phone but her battery has died. Slowly, she crawls out of bed and pulls on his Columbia t-shirt. Then she makes her way to the bathroom and afterwards, downstairs to find Fitz. It's raining outside, the first they've had in the city for weeks.

"Morning beautiful," he says from the sofa, turning to smile at her. He looks so good: freshly showered, his hair perfect, the scent of his body wash filling the air. His expression falters when he sees the look on her face. "How are you feeling?"

She crosses the room and curls up beside him, tucking her head against his chest. "Sick. Hungover. Ugh, I don't even think I was that drunk. My last glass of Champagne was around eleven o'clock; I only had water after that. Is this what happens when you get old?"

She can feel him chuckling. "I wouldn't know, I'm not _old_. Neither are you. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll make you a coffee."

"Oh god, no." The thought makes her stomach churn.

"Sorry. A tea, then?"

Olivia shakes her head and then stops, because it hurts. "You can't go anywhere - you're too comfy."

He laughs and kisses her hair. "Okay. Do you wanna pick what we watch on TV?"

"No. You can."

She yawns and he settles down deeper into the couch, drawing a blanket over her. It's so comforting, having someone to hold her when she's feeling unwell. She tries to concentrate on the TV but she can feel herself drifting back to sleep; suddenly, and it's probably a while later because it's lighter outside, she's jolted awake by a knock on the door and a woman's voice.

"Fitzgerald! Open up, I know you're in there!"

"Oh _fuck_." Fitz is on his feet instantly, panicked. Olivia finds herself sprawled on the couch, trying to work out what's going on. "What the _hell_ is she doing here?"

And then it dawns on her, through the haze in her brain. She thinks she might actually be sick. "Is that… your wife?"

His eyes look wary, pained. "Yes."

"What are we gonna do?" She manages to sit up.

"Well, unless you want to meet her right now, like this-" He gestures to her attire, her messy hair, her hungover state. "-I suggest you go back to bed while I get rid of her."

He sounds acutely stressed but his words still hurt a little. Olivia forces herself to her feet; she touches his arm as she passes but he doesn't seem to notice, instead straightening the couch cushions… Erasing all evidence. Upstairs, she wishes she could avoid hearing their conversation but she has no choice: Mellie Grant's voice is loud, and she's clearly angry.

"How _dare_ you embarrass me!"

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Heels click on the wooden floor of the entrance hall. _We were having sex there just a few hours ago_ , Olivia thinks sadly, their bubble well and truly burst. Now this woman has entered their space and ruined it forever.

"Oh, don't think you're so clever Fitz. I asked around and Rachel told me you were staying at her ex-husband's house."

"What are you doing here?" he repeats, through gritted teeth.

"This!" There's a pause - she's obviously showing him something. "You know, I thought it was suspicious when you said you wanted a quick divorce, but now I can see why! Who is she?"

 _Oh god._ It must be a photograph of them together. Olivia goes to check her phone but remembers it's dead.

"How did you get this?" Fitz is asking.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"A friend sent it to me. She checks the blogs, the morning papers, you know. And don't pretend that isn't you, Fitz. Even in the dark I recognize you, with your arm around another woman. You can divorce me, but you will _not_ make me look like a fool!"

"Mellie, listen to me-"

"Who is she?"

"No one. Look-"

 _No one_.

The rest of their argument fades away; it's less than a minute before the door slams shut. Even though she's been the one saying they need to protect themselves, to stay secret, she can't deny that it hurts like hell to hear Fitz dismiss her like that. After everything they've been through already, after last night when he flew across the country to be with her, it's so easy to forget that he's married; that he still belongs to someone else. Someone else who's a successful lawyer his own age, who wears heels on a Sunday morning to visit her estranged husband. She has no idea what Mellie looks like but she doubts she'd ever allow herself to be a hungover mess like Olivia is right now.

When Fitz comes into the room, the only thing she can do to stop her heart breaking is pretend to be asleep.

"Liv?" he says softly. She feels the bed dip with his weight as he sits beside her. "I need to go and find her, to sort this out. I'll be back soon."

He waits to see if she'll answer; when she doesn't, he gently kisses her cheek and then leaves. As soon as she hears his car pull out of the driveway, she gets up again and calls a cab from the landline. She dresses as inconspicuously as she can in a pair of his shorts and his t-shirt, folding her clothes and shoes into a backpack. It's pretty obvious that she's spent the night at a guy's house but right now, she feels so melancholy that she doesn't care if it makes headline news - maybe then, Fitz will acknowledge her.

As she showers in her own bathroom, a hundred emotions run through her. Most of all, she feels stupid and childish: a drunken night out in a club with her twenty-something friends; grinding on each other like college students; ending up sick and pathetic and the very opposite of sexy the next morning… Fitz is forty! He should be hanging out with women his own age, drinking in nice lounge bars, going for bike rides the following day and eating brunches in Central Park. He shouldn't be babysitting her and having to sneak around. It isn't fair; no wonder he was annoyed with her this morning.

After the tears have all flowed away down the drain comes intense, unavoidable fatigue. She brushes her teeth before crawling into bed where she falls asleep almost instantly… forgetting to put her phone on charge. She sleeps for a while, probably sometime into the afternoon, before she's woken yet again by a knock on the door. There's a horrible sense of déjà vu - until she hears Fitz's voice.

"Livvie? Are you home, baby?"

She contemplates ignoring him, pretending she's out. Her thoughts this morning about their relationship seem absurd now, like they belonged to someone else… And yet her heart still feels heavy, weighing her down; hearing him call her 'no one' and then chase after his wife still hurts. She eventually gets up, relieved to find her headache has gone. She thinks about putting on some proper clothes instead of her pajamas but decides he's already seen her looking much worse today.

"Hi," she says quietly, opening the door. He looks so worried; she can barely stand it.

"What's wrong? I got home and you weren't there, and your phone's off."

"Sorry. I forgot to charge it."

He's staring at her. "Can I come in?"

Reluctantly she moves back and lets him past, following him into the living room. "Livvie, what's the matter?"

She shrugs, and hates herself for it. There she goes again: childish. "Nothing."

He's not buying it and she's glad, because she really hates fighting with him but she has no idea how to express her feelings without sounding like a five-year-old. "Are you mad because I went after Mellie?" He waits; she stays silent. "For god's sake, Liv! I had to smooth things over. I need to keep her onside until the divorce is finalized. I can't afford to piss her off because she'll destroy me!"

Olivia sits down on the couch, processing his words as he sits beside her. "You want to know what's really funny?" he asks.

"What?" she mumbles.

"It wasn't even a photo of you and me. I mean, you're in it, which it why it was on the blog, but I've got my arm around Kim. You know, when she was cold without her jacket?"

He gets out his phone and shows her: instantly, a large percentage of her worry evaporates. She didn't realize she'd been so concerned about their relationship being outed already, focused as she was on her feelings about him and his wife. Now that that's gone, the rest of her fears are starting to seem really silly.

"There's something else wrong, isn't there?" he presses when she doesn't speak. "Livvie, please tell me. I have no idea what's going on."

He looks so concerned, so lovely and handsome and perfect, that every single one of her bad thoughts comes crashing down around her. How could she doubt him? How could she ever think he didn't want to be with her, when everything he's done since they met has been to prove how much he cares about her? Yes, they're in a difficult situation but he's never been anything other than totally honest with her - and now she owes him the same in return.

"It's stupid," she says in a small voice. "Really stupid."

"Try me. I've done some pretty stupid stuff in my time."

She sighs and makes herself look into his eyes. "I just got upset because… our magical little birthday bubble burst this morning. I keep forgetting about your wife; I wish more than anything you were single, and we could go out and face the world together. And then she turns up, and I feel like crap anyway, and you told her I was 'no one' and I just-"

"Olivia, listen to me," he interrupts, which is fortunate as she's almost run out of ridiculous things to say. "I was just trying to protect you. I thought that's what you wanted. And anyway… I was talking about Kim."

He smiles, lifting her chin, and she can't stop the corners of her lips curving upwards too. "So you don't mind spending a Saturday night getting drunk with my friends, going to a club that plays house music?"

"It was, honestly, the most fun I've had on a night out in years."

"Really?"

"Yes!" He pulls her into his arms and she tries not to cry, because he's so amazing and she's such an idiot. "Is this what you've gotten yourself so upset about?"

"Yes."

"Oh baby. You are-"

"Completely crazy?"

"I was going to say irrational, but yes. You are totally fucking crazy."

She laughs through her tears, clinging onto him. She has no idea what's wrong with her emotions at the moment; she hopes it's just a combination of tiredness and alcohol. "I'm so sorry," she tells him, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

"It's okay, baby. Just promise you'll talk to me in future, instead of running away. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. Now, stay there and close your eyes - I have a belated birthday present for you. Three, actually."

When she's allowed to look, there are packages on the sofa in front of her. "Oh Fitz. This is too much."

"You don't know what's inside them yet," he grins. "Go on, this one first."

She rips open the paper to reveal a pale blue box. Inside is a set of the most delicate, peach-colored lingerie she's ever seen. "Wow. These are gorgeous."

"I guess they're kinda for me as well," he teases.

"Thank you. I love them. Which next?"

He hands her a smaller gift which feels like - and is - a book. A travel diary. Inside he's documented their time in London, including pictures of the landmarks they visited, their opera and train tickets and the selfie she took of the two of them on Waterloo Bridge. Her eyes fill with tears again and she hugs him tightly. "Fitz, it's amazing."

"I'm glad you like it. There are so many pages for us to fill together."

She kisses him, cradling his face. "You're too good to me."

"I'm not. You deserve everything, and more."

With a bashful smile she opens the final present, a medium-sized jewelry box. Inside is the most beautiful necklace she's ever seen: a radiant cut, pink diamond the size of her thumbnail in a setting of smaller diamonds, sitting on a fine silver chain. It's so sparkly even in the low light of her living room. She raises her wide eyes to Fitz's, who's looking at her with apprehension.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh my god. I _love_ it. It's… It's stunning, Fitz."

"It was made in New York, and the lingerie was hand sewn in a boutique in LA. I wanted to get you presents from places that are special to both of us. Hopefully we can make so many more memories together over the years, from all around the world."

"I don't know what to say. _Thank you._ "

"My pleasure."

He offers to put the necklace on but she can't bring herself to wear it with her pajamas. She runs into her bedroom, trying to find something suitable to pair with such an astounding piece of jewelry. After a brief search through her closet, however, she comes up with another idea.

Fitz's eyes widen when she walks back into the living room completely naked, her hair tied up in a ponytail. His surprised expression morphs into an appreciative smile and he stands to place the necklace on her and fasten it at the back. When she turns around to him again, she can tell it looks even better on than he'd imagined.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his fingertips running over the delicate chain and lower, over her skin. "Livvie, I…"

Their eyes meet. He doesn't need to say it: it's all over his face; in every gift he's bought her, everything he's done for her this weekend.

"I know," she whispers. "So do I."

And then she kisses him.


	17. Oh

**A/N: I can't thank you enough, yet again, for all your amazing comments. I appreciate every single one. It makes me so happy to see people re-reading the story from the beginning, readers who are still here with me after all this time. I'm so grateful.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17 -** ** _Oh._**

The phone on Olivia's desk rings, for perhaps the hundredth time so far today. It's an internal call from Quinn. She doesn't pause in typing the report she's trying to finish as she answers: "What's up?"

"I've got Andre from Versace on the phone again. He's wondering about navy?"

Olivia sighs. "I said black."

"I know."

"Do you want me to speak to him?"

"No, I can handle it. I was just double-checking."

"It has to be black. Tell him that I'm really sorry to change my mind the week before the ball but I have this necklace I want to wear and I need a simply-cut, black dress to show it off."

"I did say that on Monday, but I'll tell him again."

"Do I sound like a diva?"

Her friend laughs. "No, Liv. You're fine. Anyway, no designer is going to back out of dressing Olivia Pope, no matter what you demand."

She can't help but roll her eyes, even alone in her office. The concept that she is a fashion icon, that there will be photos of her in magazines and on websites for days after the party, is still foreign to her, still quite unreal. "Thanks Quinn."

"No problem."

Olivia ends the call and tilts her neck back and forth, stretching the aching muscles. The phone rings again almost instantly and she reaches out to answer it without looking, her face still turned to the ceiling, eyes closed. "What?"

There's a pause. "Well, hello to you too."

Her lips curve into a smile as the warmth of Fitz's voice flows through her. "Hi. Sorry, I thought you'd be Quinn again."

"Busy day?" His tone is immediately full of compassion and it makes her heart ache with appreciation for him.

"Yeah, crazy. This report is going to take twice as long as I'd hoped and my afternoon conference call has been brought forward two hours, which gives me roughly-" She glances at the clock on the wall. "-No time for lunch."

"Oh, Livvie. You need to eat. Are you still feeling sick?"

She's been nauseous every morning this week, since the day after her birthday. Initially she put it down to a hangover; now, five days later, she's suspecting it's stress-related as her work schedule seems to have caught up with her in a big way. She hasn't been getting home until gone seven every evening and, as Fitz is having the exact same problem after more than a month of travelling, she feels like she's barely seen him. Even though he's stayed over at hers every night, it's not enough - she misses him.

"I'm fine now," she tells him truthfully. "I had a smoothie a few hours ago."

"Do you want me to bring you something over?"

"Don't be silly," she says fondly. He's so cute. "Quinn will get me a salad when she goes out for lunch. Anyway, aren't you busy too?"

"Not too bad today. I just have one more staff appraisal to do this afternoon and then I'm all caught up with those."

"Who is it for?"

There's a pause. "Cyrus," Fitz admits and she can tell he's grinning, which makes her laugh.

"Surely you have to pass him with flying colors? He's been doing all your work for the last month."

"I know, that's why I booked him in for Friday afternoon - so we can both leave early."

Olivia smiles. "I like your style, mister."

"I like yours."

His voice has dropped slightly; just enough to hint at what he might be thinking, to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise in anticipation. "I can't wait to see you tonight," she says, and it's true - despite the fact they've only been apart a few hours since leaving her apartment early this morning.

"I can't either."

"Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Just your beautiful self."

They're quiet for a moment, both thinking how lucky they are; falling a little more in love.

"See you later, sweet baby," Fitz murmurs eventually, and she has no idea how he does it but those five words seem to contain a thousand promises.

"See you later."

* * *

The thing about Fitz, Olivia thinks as her head falls back onto his shoulder and her knees start to shake, is that he's always so selfish when it comes to her. Here she is, in Henry's kitchen all dressed up for him, and here he is pressed up behind her, his hands wandering, his lips dancing along the sensitive skin of her neck as she tries not to melt into a puddle on the floor. She only arrived five minutes ago: just long enough for him to kiss her hello and tell her how incredible she looks; to pour her a glass of Champagne and ask about her afternoon before his gaze roamed over her body again and he seemed to realize that nothing he was saying was as important as this woman, this vision, in front of him.

How dare he take control of her like this, mind and body? How dare he trample all over her grown-up sophistication and render her a speechless, quivering mess? How dare he seduce her, when her sexy little dress and her heels and her barely-there makeup were all planned and perfectly executed to seduce _him_?

In the small part of her brain still capable of conscious thought, she remembers the night they met: the ambience of the ballroom and the intense blue of his eyes and his words - _"You're a control freak."_

 _I'm not the only one_ , she thinks now with a smile, as her hands cover his and she gently removes them from her abdomen, the ribs just beneath her right breast.

"Fitz," she admonishes, stepping forward, out of his arms. She turns and he's already in front of her again, filling her personal space, drawing her back to him with the most irresistible, most charming grin she's ever seen.

"What?" he asks innocently, dipping his head, kissing the corner of her mouth. The feel of him, his warmth and his scent as he pulls her closer, overwhelm her. She turns her face and lets him kiss her properly this time. Their mouths meet in a familiar dance: softly at first, and then deeper, the tip of his tongue sliding over her lips and then between, to meet hers, to play and taste and turn her on so effortlessly.

He backs her into the counter, slowly, one step at a time. He's turned on too, she can feel it in the tension of his muscles, in the hardening of his cock against her belly. If they're not careful they're going to be fucking in this kitchen in no time at all, such is the exponential course of their desire when they're together like this. Does she really care, though? Does he?

Just as she's beginning to think he might not - as his fingers slip beneath the hem of her dress, as he groans from deep inside his chest - he suddenly releases her and steps back, putting air and space and sense between them. He's panting, his gaze dark and dangerous as he stares at her, trying to steady himself. She holds onto the edge of the counter with both hands and stares back, her lips curving into a smile, her breathing ragged.

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes struggling not to fixate on the rise and fall of her breasts.

"You should be."

That makes him look directly at her, surprised. "Why?"

"Because I came here tonight wanting to seduce you, and you do this to me-" She gestures to herself, to her generally disheveled state, "- without even trying."

That makes him smile too, his body finally relaxing. "Baby, that _was_ you seducing me." He moves forward again and holds her: affectionately this time, without secondary intent. Up close she can see that his lips are still moist from her tongue, that the pulse in his neck is still racing. "Don't you realize what you do to me? Everything about you seduces me. I can't be alone with you and not touch you, not want you. Especially when you look so unbelievably beautiful. If you actually _tried_ to seduce me, I don't think I'd survive the experience."

He kisses her, sweet and long, and Olivia has to concentrate hard to stop herself falling apart again at his incredible words, his intoxicating proximity.

"Am I forgiven?" he asks eventually, his hands finding hers and intertwining their fingers.

She looks up at him, her eyes hazy and utterly besotted. "Yes. Always."

"Good." He raises their hands up between them and tugs, drawing her towards him, across the kitchen as he walks backwards and she giggles. He finally lets her go and passes an untouched glass of Champagne to her. "Cheers. Happy Friday."

"Happy Friday," she echoes, toasting him. He moves around the table and begins to take ingredients out of the fridge. "Am I allowed to know what we're having for dinner now?" she asks. He's been keeping it a secret all week, ever since he told her he was going to cook for her tonight. (The way he instructed her and assumed she would acquiesce, instead of offering her an invitation, is just another example of the maturity and confidence which make him so attractive.)

"My favorite meal," Fitz answers, now opening cupboards and drawers, picking out chopping blocks and knives and pans. "Chicken, asparagus and snow pea risotto."

"Ooh. Sounds fancy."

He turns and grins at her. "Not really. It's just a little labor-intensive, but so worth it. Here, sit down."

He withdraws a chair for her. "Don't you want any help?" she asks.

"No. Relax, Livvie. You've had a hard week."

She kisses him before she takes a seat, holding his face in her palm and gazing into his eyes. "Thank you."

"My absolute pleasure."

It's impossible not to believe him.

"You know," she confesses a minute later, after he's connected his phone to the house's audio system and the soft tones of Sam Cooke are filling the air, "You're the first man who's ever cooked for me. Apart from my dad, obviously."

"What?" Fitz stops on his way back to the counter, looking at her in shock. It makes her feel a little embarrassed. Maybe she shouldn't have admitted that. Maybe it somehow reflects a failing of hers?

"Yep," she shrugs, trying to play it down. "I've never dated anyone with any culinary talent."

"But didn't any of them try?"

She can see he's struggling to accept this fact; that it's so opposite to his views, to his beliefs about how women should be treated, that he just can't comprehend it.

"No, I don't think so. Unless you count take out or microwave food."

In almost two years with Edison, she can't recall a single time he offered to cook for them. It had simply never occurred to him that a man would, or even could, make a meal. It was both a failing of his upbringing and of him. He was unable to see beyond his own little world; unwilling to acknowledge that times had changed since his parents' generation, since their ideals were planted into his young mind, and that not all change was bad. It was yet another warning sign she chose to ignore, until it was too late.

"Don't pity me," she says quietly, because that's the look on Fitz's face right now and it feels pretty awful.

"I'm not." She continues to gaze at him until he concedes. "Okay I am, but only because I'm horrified. How can that be true? How come no one has done this for you before?"

"I don't know." She's getting annoyed at him now, for making this such a big deal. "Maybe it's my fault. Maybe there's something wrong with me."

" _Don't."_ He's beside her instantly, crouching down, lifting her chin to make her look at him. "Don't do this again, Olivia. Don't ever think you're not worthy of affection, of love. That is _totally_ ludicrous."

She can feel tears stinging her eyes. _Don't cry_ , she wills herself. _Don't cry over Edison to Fitz. It's_ over _. Let it go._

"You can't blame yourself for other people's failings. I won't let you."

He looks so serious that she doesn't dare tell him the truth: that blaming herself is her biggest flaw. That Edison comes all wrapped up in a self-destructive package along with her mother's death and the subsequent, devastating withdrawal of her father's affection. She wants to believe him so badly but she's too damaged to be fixed overnight; too scarred to ever be pristine and new again.

"I'm sorry," she whispers now, glancing down at her lap.

"What _for_?"

Again, he's incredulous. Is her behavior really so extraordinary? It must be, because Fitz is staring at her like she's insane.

She doesn't know what to say. _I'm sorry I'm not perfect. I'm sorry I have issues, things which happened to me before I met you. I'm just… sorry, for everything._

As usual, whenever she is struggling, fighting to keep her head above water, Fitz seems to know exactly what to do. "Come here." He stands up and pulls her to her feet, leading her across the kitchen tiles to an area by the door where there's a bit of space. He takes one of her hands in his and places the other against the small of her back, drawing her against him. Olivia lets her forehead come to rest on his shoulder as he begins to sway gently to the music. ' _Darling, you send me…'_ It's a beautiful song, one of her favorites. Her dad still has the original vinyl at his house and the nostalgia of that thought makes her smile. They really need to play records together more often.

"You're dancing," she murmurs after a little while, turning her face towards his neck. She can't look at him just yet: she's too ashamed of herself.

"I am. Anything for you."

The song changes. After a few lines, a soft laugh escapes her. ' _It's been a long time, a long time coming; but I know a change gonna come.'_

She looks up and sees Fitz is amused as well. "How apt," he says, and she feels his voice rumbling in his chest, his thumb brushing up and down her spine, his love for her surrounding them.

"I'm so sorry," Olivia says solemnly, stilling their movement. This time, he allows her to apologize. "You're so good to me, and I let myself get caught up in the past. I've ruined this evening-"

"Livvie, ssh." She stops at the authority in his voice. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm here for you, no matter what you have to go through. I want all of you; every last piece. Even the ones you don't like, the ones that hurt."

He leans down, touching the tip of his nose to hers. "I'll wait for as long as you need me to. I'll always be here. And I'll cook for you every damn night from now on, just to prove to you that you are _so_ deserving of love, Olivia."

"Thank you." She can't help but smile, even as she reaches up to kiss him. "Can we start tonight over?"

"Which part?" he replies. "I don't want to erase our hot little make out session."

"Me neither," she giggles. He kisses her again and she lets herself get swept away, surrendering to him. Why can't she just be happy right here, in these moments, with this incredible man? Why does she keep sabotaging herself?

 _It's only been a month_ , says a voice in her head. _You've already started to face your demons. Just give it_ time _._

And she promises herself that she will, because time is something they have.

At least, that's what she thinks...

* * *

After the most delicious risotto, so rich with garlic and parmesan, and a dessert of melt-in-the-middle chocolate puddings, they snuggle down on the sofa and switch on the TV. Olivia is barely paying attention, distracted by the feel of Fitz's body beneath hers, by his straying hands. Her dress is short and low-cut, a satiny cream-colored fabric which clings to every curve, and he's taking full advantage of the easy access beneath it and all the bare skin that's on offer.

After a while just playing with each other, pretending to be interested in the comedy show rerun, he shifts her off his lap and stands. With his shirt partially unbuttoned and his hair a mess from her fingers, he looks absolutely delicious. She can see the outline of his erection against the backdrop of the TV screen. "Stay here," he commands, his voice throaty and low.

She watches him leave, feeling her body humming with desire, aching at the loss of him. She squeezes her thighs together; tries to be patient but finds it an impossible task. She's already on her feet, intending to go look for him, when he calls for her.

"Come upstairs, baby."

He's filled the bedroom with candles: the floor, the windowsill, the bedside tables. There's music up here too, more of the same, gentle soul. It's the most romantic scene she's ever seen and there in the middle, still dressed in his clothes and looking at her like she's his whole world, is the most romantic man she'll ever know.

With a smile, he takes her into his arms once again and resumes their dance. She starts to speak, although she's not sure what she can say to express how this makes her feel, but he quiets her with his finger on her lips. There's fire in his eyes, and lust, and love. If he hadn't already banished all her doubts, that look alone would, in an instant.

As they move in small circles, their hips swaying to the slow tempos and crooning voices, Fitz begins his very deliberate, methodical worship of her. He doesn't make a sound, other than his heavy breathing which sends shivers through her when it caresses her ear, the side of her neck. He kisses her only briefly, always breaking away too soon to trail his lips along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Olivia is burning up for him, frustrated and aroused by his torturously leisurely pace in equal measure. She wants to tell him to stop, to go faster, to touch her where she needs it most, but she can't. He has all the power. He's completely enchanted her.

After a little while he turns her around. Their eyes meet in the mirror and he smiles again, but she can't. His fingers easily find her zipper and he kisses every inch of exposed skin as he slowly unfastens her dress, from the back of her neck all the way down to her bottom. She feels his teeth nipping at her, pulling at the lace she's wearing, and more heat pools in her core. The dress falls to the floor, lying forgotten around her ankles because Fitz's hands are on her hips and his nose is pressing against the inside of her thigh, his teeth grazing the most hidden part of her panties, and she can barely stay on her feet because everything feels _so. damn. good_ right now. Then he licks along the creases between the tops of her legs and her gluteal muscles, somewhere no one else has cared to explore before, and she has to retract her statement because this is better than good: this is something like heaven.

He withdraws soon after, leaving her gasping for him. There's tension in every single one of her muscles; she's soaking wet, and he's barely touched her. He stands in front of her and takes off his clothes. She wants to touch him too but she knows, instinctively, that if she reaches out he will stop her. How could she have thought him selfish? This is _all_ about her.

He moves behind her once more, pressing every inch of his hard, bare body up against her. They're still facing the mirror and she watches, feels, his hands roaming over her: her shoulders, her arms; down across her abdomen, the barest touch between her legs - which makes her arch helplessly - and back up, to her chest. He takes hold of her breasts, kneads them, and they're so tight and it feels _so_ amazing, but then he's gone again, far too soon.

Her bra is undone quickly, by his clever fingers. She takes it off and throws it aside, careful to avoid the candles. If it set on fire, she's not sure she would notice right now. Fitz remains right behind her, the heat of his body enveloping her, his erection hot and insistent against her lower back. Feeling him there turns her on even more. She wants to take him into her mouth, to make him moan her name, but again she knows that wouldn't be allowed.

"Do you remember," he says, his words shaking her bones, "that night in the hotel?" His arms encircle her and she covers them with her own, sliding her fingers into the spaces between his. The flickering candlelight on their bodies blurs their skin so they start to become one, white and brown and golden; aflame. "When I held you against the wall and we just looked at each other; the first time I was bare inside of you?"

Of course she remembers. How could she ever forget?

"I do." Her voice is hoarse from lack of use, from desire. He's been holding her gaze in the mirror this whole time and she knows he can see what that night meant to her; the wonder she still feels when she thinks about it.

"You know," he goes on, tightening his grip on her, "I've been doing some reading about Tantric sex since then. It's all about the journey, not the destination. It's about connecting with each other on the deepest level; gazing into each other's souls."

His hands are beginning to wander again, his left up to her breasts, his right down low on her belly. "I think we were doing it without even realizing," he says and she has to agree, even as her eyes fall closed because his thumb is brushing over her nipple and it's sending electricity to the end of every single nerve.

She feels his mouth on her neck, his teeth biting her earlobe as his fingers now slip into her panties and push them down her legs. "Come sit with me," he instructs gently. She follows him to the bed without hesitation.

He settles in the middle of the mattress, feet together and knees apart, and she sits in the space between his legs, resting hers around his hips. They automatically shuffle closer together until they're touching: her chest against his, his cock against her center but not inside - not yet. He nuzzles her nose and smiles at her, and she can't help but smile back. His hands are resting at her lower back, hers behind his neck. The music is still playing softly but it seems more distant now; muted. Olivia breathes in, filling her lungs, and focuses on all the sensations in her body: the ache deep down inside her, pulsing in time with her heartbeat; the feel of his skin, his dark hair against her tight, tender nipples; the new and incredible feeling of being in such an intimate position with him and _not_ having sex.

They stay there for an indeterminate amount of time, breathing in and out together in sync, soul-gazing. It feels comfortable from the very start: she's not embarrassed to be baring herself to him, literally and mentally, as maybe she would have thought she might be. At some point they start to alternate their breaths, sharing each other's air like they did that night in London. Fitz's fingertips are gently caressing her back, her arms; hers are in his hair, running over the arches and lines of his face. Every single touch heightens her arousal; every passing second deepens her desire for him. It's starting to become unbearable and yet at the same time, she wants to delay the end for as long as possible because this is the most phenomenal experience of her life.

When he finally kisses her, it's so light she barely feels it; just a whisper of his lips over hers. They continue to look at each other as he kisses her again and again and she realizes she can see inside of him, can see everything: that this is a man who really, truly loves her. They are connected now by something beyond them, by their shared energy which is almost tangible in the stillness of the room. She will never be able to go back now, to life before him. They've made a bond which will last forever.

They seem to decide at the same time that they're nearing the finish line; that they can't last any longer, full to the brim with sexual tension, with uncontainable longing. When Fitz lifts her and then lowers her back down onto him, the feeling of fullness is unlike anything she's ever known before. Her muscles dilate to accommodate him, drawing him even deeper; she whimpers and tilts her head back as he moves just a little and she clenches helplessly around him.

"Not yet," he murmurs, holding her still, waiting patiently until she's able to look at him again. The temptation to come is almost unavoidable; it takes all her willpower to stay there, right on the edge, with him. "I just want to sit with you like this for a while."

How can she refuse?

They continue to breathe together. He inhales on her exhale, making his body rise ever so slightly, making him move millimeters inside of her but she can feel it, and it makes her wetter and hotter and more tense than ever. He's so close too: his eyes tell her, and the indentation of his fingertips on her skin, and the small twitches of his hips he's trying to suppress. The air around them is stifling, heavy with anticipation. The current song is starting to build, to fill with more voices, an orchestra; a crescendo which is so perfectly reflective that Olivia finally decides it's time.

She begins to move, using her feet on the bed and her arms on his shoulders for leverage. She's only taking him in and out by about an inch but it's enough for him to get the message; to take hold of her waist and help lift her up and down. They don't go fast - they don't need to. He's stroking the inside of her, stroking her towards the most intense climax of her life, and her clit is rubbing against his lowest abs and she's going to fall, gazing into his dark eyes, the two of them bound together now, as one…

When she starts to come, it's gentle at first; a trickle of pleasure, building slowly from the inside, allowing her to savor every single second. She doesn't have to tell him that it's begun: she can see from his mesmerized expression that he already knows. He dips his head and sucks her left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her, his teeth. It intensifies every feeling, makes her muscles contract a little more forcefully, taking her higher, further. This is the best place in the world; she wants to stay forever and yet she's also desperate to get to the end, the finale, the pinnacle of fulfilment. She's moving faster now, coming harder, every sensation snowballing; an avalanche ravaging through her body. She starts to moan, unable to hold it in any longer, and Fitz kisses her, taking the sound into him; absorbing everything she's giving out. She feels his grip tighten and knows he's right there too, just about to fall.

And then suddenly he's pounding into her and the most powerful orgasm hits her, overriding everything else she's felt tonight, slamming through her with a force which leaves her breathless and boneless, which removes her from reality for an unknown amount of time. Wave upon wave of ecstasy rolls over her, from the epicenter between her thighs all the way to her fingers, her toes. She's aware of Fitz beside her, beneath her, around her; his face buried in her neck, shaking uncontrollably. She clings to him as if her life depends on in, feeling his heart pounding against her chest. He's everything right now. There's nothing else but him, but _them_.

It seems like a long while later when Olivia finally starts to regain some sense of herself. She's lying on top of him on the bed; every so often her legs jerk, fizzing with aftershocks. She feels totally broken, like her fragile body was unable to contain that amount of pleasure.

"My _god_ ," Fitz is saying, his voice barely formed. She thinks maybe they broke him too.

"I know," she breathes, unable to open her eyes. "I know."

She wonders if she's fallen asleep because the next thing she knows, Fitz is gently moving her off of him and getting up from the bed. The music stops; the darkness behind her eyelids deepens and, if she concentrates, she can hear him blowing out the candles.

He rolls her over, freeing the covers from beneath her limp form, tucking her back underneath and wrapping her up in his arms. He kisses her forehead, holding onto her fiercely. _I love you_ , she wants to say, but she's so tired that the words won't come.

Sleep takes her in seconds.

* * *

"I love you, Olivia."

But she's so satiated, so exhausted that she's already asleep. Fitz says it again anyway, because he's never felt it as acutely as he does right now. It's never ached in his bones before, never burned beneath his skin like this, fighting its way out of him; finally unleashed by the earth-shattering experience they've just shared.

" _I love you."_

* * *

Henry arrives home from Belize the following evening. Fitz picks him up from the airport as Olivia is attending a charity event in the city.

"I'd really like to tell him about us," he'd said to her that morning at breakfast. She didn't mention his admission the night before; didn't give any inkling that she'd heard him, which he's partly pleased about because he doesn't want to freak her out, but partly saddened by because she needs to know that she is loved. She _deserves_ to know, even if she doesn't believe that herself. "You're bound to meet each other when you visit here, and he's one of my oldest friends."

"Do you trust him?"

"Yes."

"Then so do I." She'd smiled at him over the brim of her mug of ginger tea. "My friends know. It wouldn't be fair to ask you to keep it from yours."

He'd kissed her and then driven her home, because they both had some work to do during the day. "Thank you," she'd said, leaning over towards the driver's seat to wrap her arms around him. "Last night was so incredible."

"I know. You are so incredible, Livvie."

She'd given him a look which said, _You're so sweet. I'm so flattered._

He'd returned it with one of his own: _I can't wait to get you naked again_.

She'd laughed and blushed as she exited the car, restarting his internal timer which logs how much he misses her until the next time they're together again. Now, twelve hours later, it's already registering _'a lot'_.

"Ah, it is so good to be home," Henry says, settling down into the sofa with a beer. "So, what's new? How's _Olivia_?"

He wiggles his blonde eyebrows, even lighter now after three months in the sun, and Fitz laughs. "She's great. Really great, actually."

"Oh? It's serious then?"

"Yeah." His friend has _no_ idea. "It's pretty serious."

"Wow. And so soon after Mellie."

Fitz shrugs. "You know what she was like. We hadn't really gotten along for years. I already knew I didn't love her before I left."

Henry nods. He's been Fitz's marriage confidant for a long time. "So, how did you and Olivia meet?"

"At the Global Initiative in London. She was seated next to me."

"She works in women's rights too? That's handy."

"Yeah, she does. You'd know her, actually. Well, you'd know _of_ her. I don't think you've met before."

He waits. Henry is a clever guy, he'll work it out. _Olivia plus women's rights equals…_

"No way!" his friend exclaims just seconds later. He sits up straight, almost spilling his drink in the process. "You're dating Olivia Pope? She's _the_ Olivia?"

Fitz can't help but grin in what he's sure is a very smug way. "She is."

" _Fuck."_

"I know. That's what I think, every day. She's just… phenomenal. I think I fell in love with her the moment we met."

"I can see why, man. But what the hell made her interested in you?"

"Maybe the fact I'm not a complete ass like you," Fitz retorts, their old banter always returning so effortlessly.

"Takes one to know one."

"What are you, eight years old?"

"Quite possibly." They both laugh. Henry leans over to clink his beer bottle against Fitz's. "Well, congrats buddy. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. We're keeping it quiet though. Obviously I'm still married - although I've already filed for divorce - and we want to protect Olivia's reputation."

"I won't tell a soul," he promises. "Although can you imagine the look on Miss Melody's face when she finally finds out she's been traded for a younger model? And for Olivia Pope no less - America's newest sweetheart."

Fitz doesn't really ever want to think about his soon-to-be ex-wife's face again, but he also doesn't want to purposefully hurt her. He just nods and lets his friend enjoy his little joke. Divorce has made Henry bitter; Fitz hopes he won't end up the same way. With Olivia by his side, he thinks he'll be okay.

"Now, what about you?" he says, changing the topic of conversation. "Any señoritas I need to be aware of?"

"Ah, I do have some stories for you…"

* * *

A week later finds them in a cab together on their way to Unicef USA's annual fundraising ball. Fitz hasn't told Olivia he's going too: he's about to surprise her, and he can't wait to see the look on her face. When he first received the invitation six months ago, he wasn't in a good place. The thought of having to take his wife was so unappealing that he'd declined altogether, sending a donation instead. But then it turned out that Henry had acquired a spare ticket from a colleague who was staying on in Belize and it took little persuasion for Fitz to accept it.

They have to queue to enter The Prince George Ballroom, slowly edging forwards until they can enter the elegant foyer. Here there's a blue carpet - Unicef blue - and several photographers snapping shots of the guests against a backdrop of sponsors' logos. He and Henry pose together, just as the people in front of them did. He wonders if anyone knows who they are but someone shouts his name - "Dr Grant, over here!" - and he smiles in that direction. He's been in the field a long time, had articles written about him and his work before, but not for a few years. It's very flattering to be recognized.

They each take a glass of pink Champagne and Fitz scans the room for any sign of Olivia, but she's not here yet. He does see several people he knows though, from way back, and he and Henry go over to say hello, to catch up.

It must be about fifteen minutes later when the room suddenly starts to grow louder; people are moving, edging towards the entrance. _"It's Olivia Pope,"_ someone whispers and when Fitz turns, tall enough to see over most people's heads, she's there.

She looks… _sensational_. He can't think of any other word to describe her. Her long hair is tied up in a smooth ponytail; a one-shouldered black dress envelops her body, hugging her breasts and the curves of her waist, her hips, her ass. It falls all the way to the floor but when she moves he realizes there's a split in the left side, revealing her slender leg all the way to her thigh. His gaze rises over her again, greedy, and this time he sees that between her collarbones, highlighted by the flash of the cameras, is the pink diamond necklace he gave her just two weeks ago. Her glossy lips are also pink as she smiles at each and every camera, showing off her perfect teeth, her high cheekbones. She poses effortlessly, like she's been doing this since the day she was born. She is glamor, perfection, personified and it seems utterly impossible to him, in this moment, that this is the same woman he calls Livvie: the sweet girl he cuddles in bed, who runs her fingers through his hair as he's falling asleep; the girl who cries in his arms when she's feeling overwhelmed.

"Wow," Henry says, close to his ear. "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

 _I know_ , Fitz wants to reply but he can't, because he's already making his way towards her. The crowd seems to be settling back down again, having had their fill of her - this celebrity in their midst. He loiters at the end of the blue carpet, hiding behind the last photographer. She's talking to a couple of them, people she's obviously met before. He wonders if they're used to this kind of interaction with the stars they take pictures of, or if she's just particularly nice. He thinks it's the latter, although he'll admit that he's biased.

She doesn't see him straight away. She takes a glass of bubbles from a proffered tray, listening to another woman who is speaking in her ear. Olivia laughs at her friend, someone Fitz doesn't recognize, and they walk off together around the edge of the room. A journalist taps her arm, gets her attention, and she greets him warmly before they begin to chat. Fitz stands close enough to hear what she's saying: "The work that Unicef USA does in support of the United Nation's Children's Fund is extraordinary. They are helping children all across the world; uplifting them from poverty, removing them from warzones, providing them with educations. I'm honored to be invited to this event, to help their cause in any way I can."

She moves away again, playing the socialite, saying hi to almost everyone she passes. It's fascinating to see her like this; he's torn between revealing himself and just observing her. An old acquaintance comes over and strikes up conversation with him, distracting him. They talk for several minutes, reminiscing about their time together in South America, more than fifteen years ago now. Henry joins them and eventually Fitz decides enough time has passed that he can excuse himself without being rude.

Olivia is standing by the far wall in a small group of people, her back to him. If their relationship was anything resembling normal he'd just walk up to her, put his arm around her waist, kiss her cheek. Instead he's forced to wait once more, to judge the right moment to surprise her. He doesn't want her reaction to give their whole game away. It's less than a minute later when her companions disperse, leaving her momentarily alone. Fitz takes his chance.

"Excuse me," he says, coming up behind her. "I'm looking for the most beautiful woman in the room…"

The look on her face when she turns is priceless. _Stunned_ just doesn't cut it.

"Oh my god!" She throws her arms around his neck, her body rising into his. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" she whispers.

Maybe she holds on a second too long; maybe he should stop her, remind her where they are, but he can't. She smells so enticing, feels amazing in his embrace. The temptation to draw back and kiss her, to show her how much he loves and desires her right now, is almost too much.

Eventually sense seems to dawn on her and she releases him, forcing herself to take half a step backwards. They're still close enough that he can feel the heat of her skin radiating across to him. Her gaze falls down over his tux and when she meets his gaze again, he knows her thoughts have become just as indecent as his.

"You look so amazing," he tells her quietly. He has to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching again her.

"So do you," she replies. She plays with her Champagne glass, almost empty now, and she's clearly having the exact same problem. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you succeeded."

They smile at one another. Fitz is falling into her dark eyes; drowning in her. He can sense her breathing becoming more erratic. What he wouldn't give to be able to kiss her right now: just once, to quench his thirst.

"Fitz," she murmurs after a long moment, dragging him back to reality. He shakes his head a little and tries to calm the fire in his blood.

"Sorry."

"You see, this is why we can't be at events together."

"Well I'm here, so you'd better learn to deal with it."

She's trying not to smile again, pursing her lips. "You're incorrigible."

"I am not! Wait, what does incorrigible mean again?"

She laughs and looks away, absentmindedly smoothing down her dress over her abdomen. "Persistent. Incurable. Hopeless."

Fitz pretends to consider her. "I am all those things, when it comes to you."

" _So_ cheesy," she sighs, rolling her eyes.

"You love it."

"I don't."

"You do."

Fortunately their childish game is interrupted by the arrival of Henry. He's met Olivia already this week, when she came to his house for dinner and stayed the night. "Miss Pope," he says, kissing her on both cheeks when she turns and smiles at him.

"Hi Henry. How are you?"

"I am fantastic, thank you very much. I see you're busy chatting up my plus one?"

She laughs again, her gaze sliding briefly back to Fitz's. It's full of humor, of secrets, of promises. "So _you're_ the reason he nearly scared me to death just now?"

Henry puts his hand to his heart. "Guilty as charged, ma'am."

"Do you still do any work for Unicef?"

"No, but we're old pals, aren't we?" He puts his arm around Fitz's shoulders. "We were volunteering together when you were still in junior school."

Fitz does a quick calculation - he's absolutely right.

"That's scary," Olivia admits, smiling self-consciously.

"That's what happens when you choose to date an old man."

Fitz withdraws from his friend, amused. "Hey, you. Stop with the 'old'. I get enough of that from her. You're only two years younger than me."

"And it shows, right?" Henry grins at Olivia and strikes a pose, showing off his jawline, pouting his lips. She giggles and glances at Fitz again, her eyebrows raised, silently asking: _Is he for real?_

 _Oh yes_ , he replies with a nod, a mock-exasperated expression. Just then a waiter comes over to them and announces that dinner is due to be served, and can they please make their way into the ballroom.

Fitz follows Olivia close behind, using the crowd to hide the hand he places on her waist. "By the way," he says next to her ear, "I love your necklace. Who bought you that?"

She turns her face towards him, her lips curved in a smile. "A pretty awesome guy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. The same guy I'm gonna take home with me tonight, after this is over. If he's interested, of course."

"Oh Livvie," he sighs. "He will _always_ be interested."

* * *

They do spend that night together, and every subsequent one for the next week. The longer they're together, the more insatiable they're becoming: they make love all evening, eating only as a means to refuel, to carry them through into the early hours of the morning. By the time Friday comes Olivia is exhausted. She can't wait for the weekend, to have some time to relax.

It starts out just like any other day. She goes to yoga in the morning, staving off an unsettled stomach with ginger tea. She's busy at work, approving plans for her organization's upcoming Christmas fundraisers, reading several new UN reports. She takes a longer lunch than normal, treating herself and Quinn, before her assistant goes back to the office to finish up and Olivia heads to her doctor's appointment. She's down to her last strip of the pill and needs a new prescription.

She didn't know it then but then next time she saw her friend, she would be an entirely different person.

"What can I do for you today, Olivia?" Dr Roberts asks as she takes a seat. She's young, maybe just thirty, with a hint of a Southern accent. They've not met before; Olivia rarely comes here and doesn't have a regular physician.

"I just wanted another prescription for Micronor please."

"No problem." She looks at her computer screen. "You last script was back in 2012, according to this."

"Yeah. I stopped taking it for a while, between relationships. I found some left over about four weeks ago and started it again. It was still in date."

"Okay. Let me just take your blood pressure." Olivia rests her arm on the desk and waits patiently as the numbers tick down, measuring her vitals.

"Perfect," Dr Roberts declares. She removes the cuff and turns back to her computer. "So, are you in a new relationship?"

"Yes." She thinks automatically of Fitz, of how excited she is to spend time with him this weekend.

"Have you been having sex without condoms?"

She frowns. Surely that's obvious? "Yes, we have."

"Have you both been checked for sexually transmitted infections?"

Olivia frowns. It hadn't even occurred to her, despite all the warnings she's received at school and university. She knows she's clean, and she's sure Fitz is too. "No," she admits.

Dr Roberts doesn't react, doesn't judge her. "Okay. Well, we should get you tested anyway, just to be safe."

"Okay."

"Now, tell me about your cycles. When was your last period?"

It seems like a lot of interrogation just to get a prescription but Olivia dutifully checks her calendar on her phone to find out. Now she thinks about it, it's been ages. "August thirtieth til September second."

"Are you usually regular?"

"Yes. Every four weeks."

Her doctor looks at the calendar on her desk. "So you should have had a period the weekend you started the pill? Do you think you could be pregnant?"

When Olivia thinks back to this moment in the days and weeks that follow, she'll remember it as the very first time she realized that one simple question can change the entire world.

 _Do you think you could be pregnant?_

The immediate answer is: _no. Obviously not. If I'd thought I was pregnant I'd have come here saying exactly that._

The next answer is: _it's impossible. I'm on the pill._

The third, and most devastating, is: _fuck. I don't know._

Dr Roberts gives her a moment. When she next speaks, her voice is gentle. "I think you should go and take a pregnancy test, Olivia." She opens a drawer and takes out a small white packet, a pot with a yellow lid. "At the same time, we can collect a urine sample for the STI test. The bathroom is just across the hall; come straight back in when you're done. Okay?"

"Yes," Olivia says automatically. She moves without really being aware of it, her body controlled by something else, her brain fixated on three words: _I can't be_. If she repeats it enough times that will make it true, right?

She pees into a plastic cup from the stack on edge of the sink; dips the end of the white stick into the clear yellow liquid and recaps it again. Then she fills the other pot and washes her hands, still on autopilot. _I can't be._

She passes her wares back to Dr Roberts and sits down. Her heart is beginning to hammer in her chest. _What if-?_

 _I can't be._

"It's positive."

Her head jerks up and she stares at this woman, this stranger. What?

"I'm sorry?"

"It's positive, Olivia."

"I… It can't be."

She thinks her heart might escape from her body. Dr Roberts shows her the two red lines which will alter the course of her life forever.

"Sometimes these tests take up to two minutes to give a result but when it's this fast, it's definitely positive."

"Oh."

 _Oh._

And then a barrage of thoughts begins to flash through her mind, so fast she can barely keep track: the morning nausea, the sudden dislike of coffee, the forgetfulness, the emotions, the fatigue. When did this happen? Was it in London? What is she going to do? Her career, her life, her father. And Fitz… What will he think? What will he want to do? Can they have a baby together? They barely know each other. Does she even want to have a child? Can she? What does she know about being a mother?

It's too much. She realizes she's crying; Dr Roberts is handing her a tissue.

"Thanks," she mumbles, wiping her eyes, trying to take deep breaths. "Oh my god."

She sinks back into the chair and gazes up at the ceiling. Is she looking for help? Hoping her mom, or God, or _someone_ will tell her what to do?

"I take it this is unexpected," the doctor says with a kind smile and Olivia finds herself reciprocating in a bizarre way, like her mouth no longer belongs to her. She certainly doesn't feel like smiling.

"You could say that."

She has never, in her twenty-seven years, entertained the idea of having a baby. Not once. It's always been something she's assigned to 'the future'; to being in her mid-thirties, married, settled. It's certainly not something she would ever have planned at this age, in a brand new relationship, with her career really starting to take off. How could they have been so _careless_?

"I'd like to send you for an ultrasound scan, to find out how far along you are. By your dates, you could be up to eight weeks pregnant."

Olivia shakes her head. "That's impossible. We only met six weeks ago."

"Pregnancies are dated from the first day of your last menstrual period, which was August thirtieth. Often women don't know the exact day they conceived so it's done in this way to avoid confusion. The sonogram will confirm the dates of your pregnancy by measuring the size of your baby."

 _Your baby._

That just sounds so wrong.

Suddenly Olivia feels like she needs to get out of there; to run away from all these new words, from this terrifying future she's somehow stumbled into.

"Can I go now?"

Dr Roberts looks at her for a long moment. "I know this is scary, Olivia. This is life-changing, no matter what you decide to do. I think you should talk to your partner about it, take some time to figure out what happens next. If you choose not to continue with the pregnancy, here are some leaflets about abortion facilities in the city…"

She's still talking but Olivia's mind has drifted again. _Abortion_. Such an ugly word. She's worked with women who've had abortions; specifically, women who've been raped, desolate, desperate. She's seen them before and afterwards, listened to their fears, their resolutions, their regrets. It always seemed like another world, back then; somewhere she would never need to go.

"Come back and see me any time, if you want to talk."

She refocuses her attention on the woman in front of her. "I've been drinking," she says, from nowhere. "Alcohol, I mean. I didn't know."

Guilt floods her. There's a tiny life inside of her and she's been poisoning it for weeks. What kind of a mother would she be if she's already doing it wrong?

"That's okay," Dr Roberts says, leaning forward. "A significant percentage of the women I see have unplanned pregnancies. They continue to drink as normal until they find out; some of them smoke, too. The vast, _vast_ majority go on to have completely normal babies. It's repeated alcohol consumption, over time, which causes harm. The occasional glass of wine has never been shown to be dangerous. You should start taking folic acid though, for development. I'll give you a prescription to take until you reach twelve weeks, if that's the decision you make."

"And the pill I was taking?"

"Not harmful," Dr Roberts reassures her. "The hormone that it contains is a synthetic version of progesterone, which literally means 'pro pregnancy'. It's the hormone that prepares the uterus for implantation of the fetus; it influences the baby's development and causes changes in your body such as growth of breast tissue and preparation for labor. But let's not get ahead of ourselves," she says with a smile, obviously noting the look of horror on her patient's face. "Here's a form for the sonogram. If you call around a few centers, you might be able to get a last-minute appointment this afternoon."

Olivia leaves the office a minute later, on shaky legs. The very first thing she does on the street outside, making sure she's not being overheard by anyone, is phone the radiology clinics listed on the referral form. She has to know all the facts before she goes home and tells Fitz. She needs as much information as possible, to be prepared, to feel even _slightly_ in control of the situation. Miraculously, the first place she calls has a cancellation in twenty minutes. It's four blocks away; she can make it easily. She gives them a false name over the phone: she'll explain properly when she gets there; make sure they abide by their own confidentiality agreements.

The sonogram is fascinating. To her it's just a grainy black and white picture on a screen; completely meaningless, like a foreign language. But to the sonographer who is performing the scan, holding the cold probe inside her vagina because it's too early to see anything through her abdomen, it obviously makes perfect sense because she's taking measurements, tapping away on the machine.

"You are seven weeks and five days," she announces. "Here is your baby."

Olivia looks but she's not sure what she's seeing. That little grey dot is a baby? It can't be. It's so tiny. She nods and pretends she understands; smiles and acts as though she's a happy, expectant mother. But actually, she's confused. This whole afternoon has been unreal. Has it even happened? Wasn't she just at lunch with Quinn ten minutes ago? She's not really pregnant, is she? Maybe that miniscule thing inside her uterus is just an anomaly, an error. Maybe this whole day is just a dream.

She gets home around five o'clock, completely forgetting to stop by the office, to tell Quinn she's done for the week. When she checks her phone there's a message from her, asking if everything is okay.

 _Fine_ , she types. _Have a great weekend xx._

She's restless now. She makes a cup of tea and then worries about the caffeine content. Can she drink tea now? Is caffeine allowed in pregnancy?

 _In pregnancy_. That makes her laugh. The only thing she's in right now is a kind of detached denial.

She sticks to water and sits on the sofa; two minutes later she's up again, wandering to her bedroom, tidying up clothes. She stands in front of the mirror and contemplates looking at her body, checking for signs - but she doesn't dare. She can block out the two red lines, the ultrasound image; if her body has changed, she won't be able to ignore that.

She decides to go for a run; she's dressed and out of the door before she can even think twice. Two blocks away she stops, however. Can she run while pregnant? A horrible thought crosses her mind: what if she started to bleed, to miscarry (such an alien word)? Wouldn't that make everything easier, take the decision out of her hands? She can't think about it for too long. She's such a mess of emotions and it makes her want to cry.

Back at home she showers, avoiding the mirror until she's fully clothed again. She procrastinates as long as she can before she's finally out of distractions and she has to face her next, greatest dilemma: how is she going to tell Fitz? _"Hey honey, how was your day? I went to the doctor for a prescription and came out with an STI test and the news that I'm pregnant. What do you feel like doing tonight?"_

The problem isn't what he'll think of the news: she knows he'll be thrilled, because he's Fitz and he's already told her he loves kids and he's so serious about their relationship he won't see it as an issue. The problem is confessing that she has no idea what to do before he gets his hopes up. The problem is how not to break his heart.

He's out tonight, invited to a dinner with the Mayor and several other state politicians. It's good for him to make friends with these people, given his long-term ambitions, but it's horrendous timing. She wants to see him _now_. She wants him to hold her, to reassure her, to tell her what to do.

Against all her better judgements, she calls him. "Livvie? How are you?"

"Can I see you tonight?" Her voice is small, her hands shaking. She feels weak for asking, for needing him this much.

"Um, I'm just on my way to dinner. Is everything okay?"

"I… don't know." It's true: she has no idea.

"Do you want me to cancel?"

And he would, if she asked, but she can't do that to him. "No," she sighs. "Don't. Just come over after? Please."

"Of course. What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I'll tell you later. Have a nice time."

"Livvie-" he says, but she hangs up. He's just too _good_. How can she tell him? How can she begin to explain all the thoughts racing through her brain? He deserves to start a family with a sensible adult: someone who knows exactly who they are; someone who's _ready_. Not someone who's so young, so unsure, so broken.

It's about three hours until he texts to say he's on his way. She's filled the evening watching TV, endless reruns of Friends. Every time there's mention of a pregnancy, a baby she looks away, muting the sound. By the time he's there she's in bed in her pajamas. She can barely look at him, her body a jumble of nerves. She feels sick.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, sitting down beside her, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation.

She shakes her head. "Can we just cuddle?"

He undresses, brushes his teeth in the bathroom. She switches off the light as he climbs into bed beside her, enfolding her in his arms. His familiar smell surrounds her and it's so soothing. This is _Fitz_ , the man she loves. Maybe everything will be okay.

She doesn't speak for a long time. His breathing is regular, even; she wonders if he's asleep yet. She tries to imagine what their life would be like with a baby. It would be asleep now, in the bedroom down the hall or in a crib beside them. She would have to get up several times in the night to feed it, to soothe its cries. It would be dependent on her, on them, for the next eighteen years of its life - if not longer. And what about her career? What would the media say when they found out a married man had gotten her pregnant? What would her _father_ say? How could she ever face him again?

Her thoughts are endless. Round and round she goes, making herself more upset and more afraid until she can't take it anymore. She has to tell Fitz, to ask him what they should do, or she'll explode.

She turns in his arms so she's facing him. He stirs, his hand rubbing her back. "Fitz?"

"Mm?"

Her heart is thundering against her ribs. She presses her face into his neck, breathing him in. If she whispers it here, maybe that's where it will stay: in the space between her lips and his skin, real and not real at the same time. "Fitz, I'm… I'm pregnant."

He stays very still for a moment. Perhaps he's wondering if she even spoke at all? But then he starts to move, lifting her head, bringing her face up to his in the dark. "What?" he asks, his voice no more than a murmur.

"I'm pregnant."

It's easier, now she's said it once. It still doesn't mean anything to her but at least she's told him; she's confessed. Now it's his turn to deal with the news.

He suddenly reaches for the light. "Don't," she says, because she doesn't want to see his face just yet, but it's too late. She blinks in the brightness. Fitz is sitting up, looking down at her.

"Sorry, but I had to turn it on. I needed to see you, to make sure I'm actually awake." He looks completely stunned, his wide blue eyes searching hers, trying to discern whether she's telling the truth. "How pregnant…" He stumbles over this unfamiliar vocabulary. "How far along are you?"

"Seven weeks, five days."

"But we only-"

"I know. It's to do with when my last period was."

He's silent again, processing. She sits up too, desperate to know what he's thinking. "When did you find out?" he asks, giving nothing away.

"This afternoon, at my doctor's appointment. I went for an ultrasound. I don't know when it happened, when we…"

She gestures vaguely in the direction of her abdomen and he glances down, obviously expecting to see some kind of change beneath her tank top. Their eyes meet again, vivid blue and terrified brown.

"That first morning in London," Fitz says quietly, as if describing an old memory which is very slowly coming back to him. "We were half asleep. I was spooning you. Did we use a condom then?"

Olivia shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe not."

There's a long pause. _Tell me what you're thinking!_ she wants to shout. _I can't take this anymore._

But of course, this is Fitz. The sweetest, kindest man; the only person in the world who knows her well enough to have any idea about the sort of internal struggles she might be going through right now. He doesn't say: _"I think we should…"_ or _"I'm so happy/sad/otherwise."_ He knows it's not about him; that this is far more complicated than a yes-no decision. He knows _her_ , and he knows there's no easy fix, no matter how much she wishes there was.

Instead he looks at her and asks, in a steady voice: "What are you going to do?"

And she responds in the only way she can: "I have no idea."


	18. It's Quite Simple, Really, Isn't It?

**Chapter 18: It's Quite Simple, Really, Isn't It?**

They don't sleep.

Fitz switches off the light and they settle back into bed, lost in their own thoughts. He wraps her up in his arms, his front pressed to her back, their legs intertwined. Occasionally he kisses her neck, her shoulder, and it keeps her grounded. _Whatever happens, I'm here_ he's saying. Olivia is unendingly grateful.

Gradually she feels his hand begin to slide along the outside of her thigh, to her waist; sneaking beneath the edge of her top. She knows what he's about to do and when she tenses up, he pauses. _I can't do this,_ she thinks. _Not now; not yet._

"Livvie," he murmurs, "It's okay. Relax."

Very slowly, she exhales; at the same time, he covers her lower abdomen with his hand, holding her firmly against him. Suddenly her emotions rise up through her chest, filling her throat, spilling over: a sob escapes her, harsh and unexpected. She tries to stop it, to keep it inside but it's too powerful and there are more coming, now that she's opened the gates. Fitz just squeezes her tighter, unrelenting. Even if she wanted to escape, she couldn't overcome his strength.

He lets her cry, releasing all the tension she's been building since this afternoon. When she begins to quieten, to calm, he turns her towards him and kisses the tears on her face. "Come on," he says softly. "I'll make us some tea."

In the harsh light of the kitchen, Olivia sits at the small table with her head in her hands as they wait for the kettle to boil. Fitz is leaning against the counter, looking casual, but she can feel the anxiety radiating from him. When the water is ready she opts for peppermint tea, unable to face the thought of Googling anything associated with pregnancy right now. He sets down two mugs and takes a seat opposite her. Neither of them say anything for a while. He's waiting for her, she knows.

Eventually she stretches, gazing up to the ceiling. "It's quite simple, really, isn't it?" she says, examining the paint around the light fitting, the single strand of a spider's web which is attached to the shade. She doesn't normally use this bulb; prefers to put on the spotlights beneath the cabinets. Maybe she should remove it altogether, repaint. She tucks the thought away and looks back at Fitz.

"I can have an abortion, or I can have a baby." Her voice sounds distant; lost somewhere, along with the rest of her. "What do you think?"

There's pain etched all over his face. She's never seen it before and yet she still thinks he looks unreasonably handsome. "I… can't tell you," he says seriously. It seems like he's struggling to get the words out; like each one is hurting him. "I don't want my feelings to influence what you do. You have to choose what's best for you, Livvie. Whatever happens, you can't make this decision for _me_. It's too important. I won't let you."

She listens; weighs up his words. This is his stance on the issue. Everything else is obviously up to her. "Would you leave me?" she asks.

"If you had an abortion? No."

"I meant if I kept it."

He looks shocked. " _Definitely_ not. I won't ever leave you."

"How can you be so sure?"

There's the first crack in her composure; the first betrayal. How does he _know_? What if he realizes she's not good enough and changes his mind? That's what Edison did, in the end. That's one of the ways he broke her. "What happens if we fall apart, Fitz? What if it turns out we're not the people we think we are?"

"Are you going to change?" he asks, gazing at her, frustration shining in his eyes. It's the first time she's ever seen that, too; normally he's so patient. "Are you going to stop being the beautiful, charming, funny girl who I fell head over heels for in London?"

"I'm damaged-" she protests but he shouts over her.

"So am I! We're all damaged, Olivia!" The volume and force of his words makes her recoil. He reaches out to her, apologizing. "I'm sorry. But it's true. I don't care. I don't. I think you are utterly perfect. Can't you see that?"

She doesn't say anything. Can she?

"Look," he goes on, taking her hands in his, "This has completely blown us both away. It's okay that you feel uncertain but please, _please_ don't do this. Don't second-guess me or the way I feel about you."

"Tell me," she says quietly. "Tell me how you feel."

Will this help, or will it just make her more confused? Either way she suddenly wants to know, to hear him say it. She needs something sure to hold onto.

He looks wary. It's clear he wishes this was happening under different circumstances. "You already know."

"Tell me," she repeats, pleading with him now. "Please, Fitz."

"I can't. Not right now."

"Why not?" Her voice starts to rise. Damn it, why is he so infuriating? "Because you're upset with me? Because this is the worst news you've ever heard? Because I've ruined your li-"

"Because I'm falling in love with you!"

She's immediately silenced, stunned. It's too much to take: his earnest expression, the way his blue eyes are seeing right into her soul. The tears return, gathering on her lashes, and she covers her face with her hands, hiding. She wasn't ready. She's not ready for this - for any of it.

"No, that's not right," he's continuing, his voice soft now. "I've fallen. It's already happened."

She's aware of him coming to kneel in front of her, turning her chair towards him. His hands gently take her wrists, making her look at him again. She's trembling, overwhelmed, her cheeks wet. "I love you, Olivia. I'm in love with you. I've loved you since the moment we met and I always will."

Gazing into his eyes, she believes him - right down to the bottom of her soul.

"Do you think we should keep it?" she asks, barely audibly. She's holding onto his arms for dear life.

"I'm not going to tell you what I think until you've figured out what you want." He brushes his fingers over her face, wiping away her tears. "When you know, I'll be here. I'll support you whatever decision you make. We're in this together, Livvie. I'll still love you whether we have a baby or we don't."

"We already have one, Fitz." The palm of her hand automatically comes to rest over her belly. "I don't know if I could… How I would feel if…"

She can't verbalize it again. One utterance of the 'A' word is enough for tonight. "I'm scared," she admits. "I'm scared of so many things right now. I'm scared of losing my identity. I can't just become a mother; I don't know anything about it. And my dad, your wife, my career, my friends… What will people think?"

"That's for them to decide. You need to do what makes you happy. That's it."

"And what makes you happy."

He looks at her for a long time. "What if those are two different things?" he asks eventually. His expression falters for just a second but it's enough for her to see beneath; for her to realize he's been putting on a brave face this whole time when really, every moment of her uncertainty is tearing him apart.

She doesn't answer his question. She doesn't know how.

He glances away, composing himself. "Come on," he says, forcing a smile. He begins to stand up. "Your tea is getting cold."

"Fitz." Her voice makes him pause, one knee on the floor and one bent, like some bizarre proposal. "Thank you. For giving me time. I don't want to decide one way and then change my mind. I promise I won't do that to you."

He swallows hard. "I appreciate that," he murmurs. He cups her cheek in his palm and slowly leans in to kiss her, maintaining eye contact until their lips meet. It's so tender, so heartfelt. He's cherishing her, this man who's in love with her. Olivia feels her emotions starting to build again, expanding in her chest, stinging beneath her eyelids. She takes a deep breath and pulls him into a hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I want to make you happy," she whispers. "More than anything."

He sighs and holds her even closer. He doesn't say anything for ages; she can feel him trembling. When he does finally speak, his voice is thick. "You already do."

She knows him well enough by now to decipher the real meaning behind his words. He's saying: _you're enough for me, if it comes to that._

He's saying: _but it will break my heart._

And that breaks hers.

He finally releases her and gets quickly to his feet, turning away, wiping his eyes. Olivia longs to be able to comfort him, to tell him what he wants to hear, but she can't. She won't; she promised.

They adjourn to the living room, both aware that sleep won't come easily tonight. Fitz flicks through the TV channels and stops at _Die Hard_. All five films are showing back-to-back.

"I think this will distract us," he murmurs with a slight smile, which she returns. What has she ever done to deserve him?

"Good choice. It's been years since I enjoyed some vintage John McClane."

"Vintage?" Fitz repeats as they snuggle down on the couch. "This movie is pretty much the same age as you."

Olivia pokes out her tongue at him as she draws a blanket over them both. "Well then, I'm vintage too."

"And what does that make me?"

She gazes at him, fighting back a grin. That he can amuse her, make her forget all her worries on one of the most difficult days of her life, is testament to their connection, the strength of their love.

"Ancient," she teases. "A relic."

He laughs and pulls her closer, kissing the top of her head as she settles against his chest. "I must be pretty valuable then," he muses.

"You are." Olivia finds his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her voice is so quiet she doesn't know if he can even hear her. "You're everything to me."

Somewhere in the middle of that sentence, wrapped up in all her feelings for him, the memory - the _reality_ \- of her pregnancy resurfaces. For the first time since Dr Roberts asked her that fateful question, she'd managed to spend five minutes happy; blissfully unaware. Now the fear comes back, settling in the pit of her stomach again.

 _I can have an abortion, or I can have a baby_ … _We already have one, Fitz…_

He's remembered, too: he's tensed up beneath her again. From far away they look like two people in love, enjoying a movie on a Friday night. But come closer and there's a huge space between them; they're together but so far apart.

What is she going to do?

What the _hell_ is she going to do?

* * *

Olivia wakes the next morning in the pale October sunlight which is streaming into the living room through the uncovered windows. She obviously fell asleep here, on the sofa. She remembers the start of the second film - or was it the third? - but little else. Fitz must have laid her down, covered her up. Where is he now?

Even as she wonders this, she knows instinctively that he's gone.

She lies still for a long time, staring at the dust particles dancing in the columns of light. The familiar nausea is there again but now, for the first time, she can attribute it to something. _This is your fault_ , she thinks, her palm lying on her lower abdomen.

And then: _Did I just talk to the baby?_

Frightened, she gets up quickly, trying to banish that thought from her mind. She can't humanize this little ball of cells inside her just yet; not if she wants to be able to make a rational decision.

It's already past ten o'clock and she spends the next few hours cleaning her apartment from top to bottom. The place is already fairly spotless - she has it serviced once a week - but as a means of distraction, it's fantastic. She can't escape the truth entirely, though: thoughts come to her at random moments, like in the spare room when she finds herself imagining how she might decorate it for a baby, where the crib might go; or in the laundry, where she pictures hanging up tiny romper suits and little socks to dry.

She leaves after that, freaked out. She takes clothes she can't wash to the dry cleaners around the corner; buys groceries from her favorite deli. She even picks up her prescription for folic acid and takes one - just in case. After dropping everything off at home she goes out again, wandering to the river. She wonders where Fitz is; what he's doing, what he's _thinking_. Is he okay? She wants to call him but she doesn't know what to say. She's made no further progress since last night; she's still just as clueless.

Eventually, sometime around three PM, she finds herself sitting at her kitchen table with a pen and a piece of paper. She's going to make a list: positive and negatives of each option. She's returning to her basic instincts: to plan, to regain control.

It's more difficult than she thought.

The pros of having an abortion are straightforward - her life continues as it is now - but the cons are frightening: the procedure itself, of which she knows almost nothing; how Fitz will feel, how their relationship might change. She might lose him, the love of her life, and that would devastate her forever. And if they do make it through, in ten years' time when they decide they want to start a family, what if they can't? What if this is their only chance? And Fitz will be fifty then. Their child will only spend thirty good years with its father. Is that fair?

The pros of having a baby are difficult for her to see, having never considered it until yesterday. Does she even like babies? None of her friends have one; she's never even had to look after an infant before. And yet, when she imagines how cute her and Fitz's baby might be, how small and soft and wriggly, she can see the appeal. She can picture Fitz holding their little bundle, making him or her laugh, walking around the apartment in circles to try and soothe their cries. How hard can it be, really, with two of them? Fifteen-year-olds do it; single parents do it, living on benefits. At least she and Fitz are fortunate enough to have each other, and money to support themselves.

But the cons of being pregnant, in their current position - well, she's gone over all of these a thousand times already. She would have to hide until Fitz was divorced, and even then they couldn't disguise the fact he was still married when they conceived. Could they spin a good enough story to keep the media on her side? Could she convince her father to support her, to be involved with his grandchild, when she knows he will fundamentally disagree with her behavior and her decisions?

And beneath all of this lies Edison Davis: the man who took all her self-confidence and tossed it aside, like it was nothing. The man who convinced her, for a long time afterwards, that she was unworthy of love. The man who, when she finally fought back at the end, told her he didn't really love her anyway; he never really had. He kept her around while she was useful to him, while she was compliant; but when she started to break free, to become successful on her own, he did everything he could to crush her - and when that didn't work, he let her leave without a word. He didn't even care enough to fight for her.

He abused her, emotionally. She's talked to countless women since who've described the same relationships, the same signs. They were all oblivious at the time, including her. It's only looking back that she can see him for what he was: a vile abuser. A disgusting human being she wishes she'd never laid eyes on, let alone fallen in love with. She still hates herself for that; for her failure. Why couldn't she see what he was doing to her? Why did she ignore her friends' warnings for so long? Why is she still letting him get to her like this, two years later?

She leaves her list on the kitchen table and curls up on the sofa, fighting back tears. Why did this pregnancy have to happen _now_? Fitz was finally helping her heal: with time, she could see there was an end in sight, a future in which she would be whole again. He told her he loved her last night and she believed him, which is huge. Why can't they just stay here for a while, in this happy place? Why does she have to make this life-altering decision right now, all by herself?

What she really wants, what she _needs_ , is her mom. She would know what to do; she would give the best advice. Sudden, overwhelming sadness sweeps through her; she misses her mom so intensely it hurts her chest, her whole body. She hugs her knees and sobs, feeling like she's being torn apart. For years after her death, Olivia used to think _life isn't fair_. She couldn't accept the randomness of it, the fact her mom was in the wrong place at the wrong time: crossing that road in the rain; the truck driver who braked just seconds too late. A million moments beforehand could have altered that one, but they didn't. It happened: she died instantly.

Since she's grown up, Olivia has come to understand. Life isn't fair, but it's all a matter of chance. Some people get to bury their parents in old age and some don't. Who gets to decide? Certainly no-one on Earth.

Right now, though, she feels twelve-years-old again: alone and abandoned in this world where everything is against her. She would give anything to speak to her mom again, to ask her what she should do. How can she have a baby and become a mother without the guidance of her own?

Her phone rings. She can barely control her shaking hands enough to pick it up. Her vision is blurry with tears but she can see it's Fitz. She takes several deep breaths before answering with a cautious: "Hi."

"Hi." He sounds just as nervous. "I'm outside your building… Can I come up?"

"Um… sure." Olivia stands, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

She exhales a laugh. "Not really."

There's a pause. She can hear him climbing the steps, saying hello to Leon at the concierge desk. She doesn't know why they're both still on the phone when he's almost with her in person, but something about it is comforting. They're connected; together, even while they're apart. It's exactly what she needs right now.

It's only when she opens the door to him that they both hang up, their arms falling to their sides in perfect synchrony. His gaze travels over her face and his look of concern, of love, when he realizes she's been crying is too much.

"Don't," she tries to say, but the word comes out as a sob. She steps backwards, away from him, holding out her hands to keep him back. She'll break down if he holds her. She'll be ruined.

Fitz is too fast, though; too strong. The door is slammed shut and she's in his arms before she can stop him.

She falls apart.

She cries like a wounded animal; like a child who's lost her mother. His presence, his body and his smell and the soft wool of his sweater against her face, just make her sob harder. _Help me_ , she's begging. _Make it stop hurting, please._

He carries her into the living room and they're back on the couch again. She curls up on his lap and he rubs her back as she trembles, wave upon wave of despair rolling over her. Every so often she starts to recover and then it hits her again, another tsunami of emotion which she just can't deal with.

"What's wrong?" he keeps asking, kissing her forehead, holding her close.

It's a long time until she can breathe evenly enough to speak, gulping in air between words. "I just… I really… want my mom."

More tears escape her but she's calmer now, the worst of it over. She can feel Fitz's heart beating beneath her cheek and she focuses on it, the slow and steady rhythm. She doesn't dare look at him, afraid he'll tip her over the edge again.

"Oh Livvie," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry, baby."

It's the first time he's called her 'baby' since they found out about the one inside of her. Strangely, it doesn't hurt. Fitz moves beneath her, reaching toward the coffee table to pass her a tissue.

"Thank you," she whispers, finally gazing up at him. He smiles and she feels a hundred times better already.

"I wish I could make your pain go away," he says seriously. "I'd do anything."

"You're definitely helping." She wipes her eyes, her nose. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Don't be."

He presses his lips to her hair and hugs her close again. They're quiet for a while. Olivia tries to picture Fitz holding her in this position when she's much more pregnant: he would put his palm on her skin and feel their child moving, nudging him with its foot, saying hello. She can't imagine what it would feel like to have something growing and wriggling inside of her. How can one human body produce another, in just nine short months? It's mind-blowing.

"What have you been doing today?" she asks him, because her thoughts are making her feel uneasy.

"Running. I ran for miles, much further than I usually go. Central Park looks beautiful today. The leaves have almost all turned now. I was thinking how much I wanted you to be there with me; for us to be able to take a walk together."

Olivia raises her head and looks at him. "I want that too. So much."

"And if you decide to keep this baby…"

"… That will be even further away." They consider each other. "It's so complicated, Fitz."

"I know."

"I've been trying to make a list, pros and cons."

"And?" He looks like he doesn't really want to know the outcome.

She shrugs slightly. "I still don't know what to do."

"That's okay." He seems to have relaxed a little. "You've got time."

It doesn't feel like that, though. Every hour which goes by without a decision just makes her feel more and more unsure, more out of control.

"Are you still going to that party tonight?" he asks.

 _Shit_.

"Oh god. I'd completely forgotten," she admits. It's a fundraiser for several local charities; she accepted the invitation months ago, promising to attend and raise their profile. In other words, it's not something she can back out of. "I guess I have to."

She looks at the clock on the coffee table and sees it's already half four. Fitz follows her gaze. "I should probably leave you to get ready soon," he says.

"You probably should." She snuggles into him even more, though. Everything seems better when he's here. Being alone is when she feels the most scared.

She realizes she should tell him those things, share her feelings - so she does.

"I'll always be here," he responds softly. "Always."

That word has new meaning for her now, since last night. ' _I've loved you since the moment we met and I always will.'_

She just wishes, more than anything, it was enough to make up her mind.

* * *

Stephen calls on Sunday evening. Olivia has spent the whole day alone again. She went swimming (Google told her that was fine) and then walked to the library, where she tucked herself away in a corner with a book for most of the afternoon. She's seen more pregnant women today than she can count, as well as parents with young children. Have there always been this many, or are they just coming out now to taunt her?

She's watched them all with fascination. Different shapes and sizes, different stages of pregnancy, different fashion choices. There's a couple she passes on the street who look to be about her age: the girl has an obvious baby bump beneath her coat and the guy is intermittently kissing her while she laughs. They look just as happy as she is with Fitz and she thinks: _maybe._

 _Maybe that could be us._

And then comes the fear, the magazine headlines calling her a home-wrecker, a whore, and she turns away. Maybe they could do this - if it was simple.

"Hey Liv," Stephen says when she answers. She's reluctant to speak to anyone, honestly, but she hasn't contacted him since London and she feels like a bad friend. "How are you?"

"Hey. I'm okay, how are you?"

They chat for a while, making small talk, until he finally verbalizes what she knows he caught onto within the first minute of their conversation. "There's something wrong, isn't there? Is it Fitz?"

She sighs. Does she tell him the truth? He's known her for such a long time; maybe he can help. Before she can even consider the consequences, she's saying the words: "It's not Fitz. I'm... pregnant."

He's silent for a long moment. "Oh my god. Congratulations."

He means it as a question; it brings tears to her eyes, that he can read her so easily. "Oh Stevie, I'm so confused. I have no idea what to do."

"Have you told Fitz?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

Her voice cracks: "He told me he's in love with me."

"But what does he think?"

She shakes her head, even though Stephen can't see her. "He wouldn't tell me. He said it has to be my decision."

"So… what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I'm scared. Either way, my life is never going to be the same, is it?"

"No," he agrees. "Oh darling, I wish I could help you somehow."

"Do you think I could do it?" she asks quietly. _Do you think I'm good enough?_

His reply is instantaneous: "Of _course_ you could. You would be an amazing mum, Liv. You're always amazing, at everything you do."

"But I don't know anything about babies-"

"Who does, really? And you don't have to know everything right now. You've got loads of time to learn."

She exhales. "I guess."

There's a pause. "Do you love Fitz, too?"

Olivia can't answer that. Stephen can't be the first to hear those words aloud.

"Okay," he continues patiently, "Let me ask you something else. Do you remember what I said to you, that night we had dinner in London?" When she doesn't speak, because her throat has tightened up, he goes on: "'He's the one, isn't he?' And you said…"

"Yes." The sound is so faint it's barely there. She's struggling to keep control of herself.

"I could see it even then," Stephen says gently. "You were already falling in love with him."

"But that doesn't mean we're ready to have a baby," she protests. "We barely know each other."

"I think you know him well enough by now to have figured out the kind of man he is."

"What if I'm wrong?" This is why talking to Stephen is good for her: he gets right to the crux of her problems. "What if my judgement is wrong again? Edison-"

"- Was a piece of shit. You have to let it go, Olivia. He's not in your life any more. This isn't his baby."

Those last words make her choke up. She and Fitz really do have a baby, already. It's not just a positive pregnancy test and a grainy picture on a screen: it's their _baby_.

"What do you think I should do?" she asks, desperately. She needs _someone_ to tell her. If it can't be Fitz or her mom, it may as well be her friend.

"I can't say, sweetheart. You need to take some more time, to talk to Fitz again and find out what he wants."

"I think I already know."

That's a lie: she's known exactly what he wants to do from the moment he looked at her in the kitchen and wondered aloud if what made them happy might be two different things. Ever since then she's been able to see it in his eyes: that he's in so much pain, waiting for her; knowing she's contemplating the alternative, unable to speak his mind because he's afraid the weight of his feelings will bowl her over. She's never known anyone be so totally selfless before.

"Has this ever happened to you?" she asks Stephen, trying to block out that image of Fitz - the man who so desperately wants their child.

"What, have I found myself unexpectedly knocked up? No."

"You know what I mean."

She waits.

"It has. Once," he confesses.

Olivia wasn't expecting that. "What happened?"

"She said she was having an abortion; I agreed with her decision. But Liv, that was a completely different situation. It was years ago. I'd only slept with her a couple of times; we weren't in a relationship, nor were we ever going to be. It couldn't be further from what's happening right now between you and Fitz."

She's quiet while she absorbs his story. "Do you regret it?"

"No," he says honestly. "Sometimes I wonder, what if? But I wouldn't say I regret it. Anyway, it wasn't really my choice."

"I feel like this isn't mine. It should be _ours._ "

"Then _talk_ to him," Stephen presses. "You love each other. You're in a relationship which sounds like it's going to last. Fitz is a good man, he'll stick by you either way - I'm sure of it. So this isn't a question of your judgement, Olivia. The only decision you have to make is: do you want to have this baby with him, or not? And if not, then can you go through with an abortion?"

 _An abortion or a baby_.

It always comes back to that, in the end.

She thanks Stephen for his help and hangs up. There's a missed call from Fitz, about twenty minutes before, and a text: _Can I come over? I'll bring pizza._

 _Yes please_ , she replies. _I'm starving_.

This is it. She is going to make Fitz be honest with her, no matter what. She's tried and tried, but she just cannot do this on her own. She needs him more than ever.

* * *

It's been the strangest two days of Fitz's life.

Ever since Olivia uttered those fateful words in the dark, her small body shaking in his arms, his whole world has been turned upside down. He's so happy he might burst, and so terrified he doesn't know how he can cope with her indecision much longer. What if she decides she can't do it; what if she asks him to go to the clinic with her, to hold her hand? How could he possibly survive that?

He would, because he loves her - but it would destroy him. He'd never be the same again.

The truth is, he wants Olivia to have his baby more than anything he's ever wanted before. He's ready. It feels like he's always been ready. He's just been waiting here, for this to happen, all his life. And how can he tell her that, when she's so fragile, so afraid? How can he be honest? If she keeps the baby because of him, she will regret it forever and he can't do that to her. It would ruin her, and their child. She has to want it, and he has to stay silent and hope that she will. Hope against hope against hope.

He's tried to be there for her but it's hard. They've barely been in contact and he's actually glad, because that means she hasn't decided yet; that means she hasn't asked him what to do again. He's managed to get through most of the weekend without her: exercising too much; drinking _far_ too many last night with Henry, until he became too intoxicated to even worry any more. He was still nursing the remnants of his hangover, his guilt, when they went out for a late lunch today with a couple of other friends. They sat beside a family, the young woman pregnant, her husband trying to feed a very cute toddler. Watching them made Fitz ache right down to his bones. This could be him and Olivia: a perfect picture of family life. Nothing in the world would make him happier.

He excused himself early, citing worsening nausea - which wasn't a lie. He lay on his bed all afternoon and wondered what to do. The only thought that kept coming back to him was: _I need to tell her. I can't let that life slip away from me; not if there's the slightest chance she might want it too._ He tried to push it down, to ignore it, but it fought against him until he had his phone in his hand and he was calling her.

It was engaged.

A moment's relief, and then the internal struggle was back on. Five minutes later, he was in his car on the way to pick up pizzas.

He's outside her door now, waiting nervously before he knocks. How can he say it, without coming across too forcefully? How can he keep himself together long enough to speak?

She looks beautiful when she answers. He thinks she might have been crying again but it doesn't matter. She is perfect.

"Hi," she says with a shy smile, taking the boxes from him with a kiss on his cheek. He wants to hold onto them, to protect himself.

"Hi."

He follows her through the living room, into the kitchen. "I called you," he says, stating the obvious.

"I know." She puts the pizzas down on the table and turns to him. "Sorry, I was talking to Stephen."

There are two possible options: either she hasn't told her friend about their situation and instead has been laughing and joking with him, or she's confessed their greatest secret. Both turn Fitz's blood to ice. His heart hurts, like it's been stabbed.

" _What?"_

He can see she knows instantly that she's made a mistake but in the heat of the moment, with all these crazy emotions jostling inside of him, he lets anger and jealousy come to the fore.

"So when I tried to call you, to find out how you are, to tell you that I-" He can't say it. Not now, not like this. "You were on the phone to another man? Did you tell him what's going on?"

She looks shocked, and ashamed. "Yes," she admits.

Betrayal washes over him. How could she do this? How could she turn to someone else instead of him?

"I don't understand," he breathes, desperately trying to calm himself down. He can't remember the last time he felt so angry and it's scaring him.

"I'm sorry," she says, pleading with him. "I just- I needed some advice, from someone who knows me."

" _I_ know you!" he yells. He runs his hands through his hair, despairing. "At least I thought I did. It was supposed to be you and me in this together, Olivia!"

"It is." She has tears in her eyes and he feels nothing. "You do know me. You know me in ways no one else ever will. But there are things you don't know, events which happened before I met you."

"So this is about _Edison_?" he sneers, because he can't help it, and she explodes in front of him.

"Of course it is!" She comes towards him, shouting, enraged. Maybe it's catching. "My every insecurity is because of that man! How _dare_ you belittle my feelings? You know nothing - _nothing -_ about the ways he hurt me."

"Because you haven't told me!"

She's right in front of him now. They're both breathing hard, fighting themselves and each other. Olivia holds his gaze for several moments and he can see her deflating; the fury dissipating. Suddenly she just looks sad, and Fitz feels absolutely terrible. She sits down on one of the kitchen chairs and he follows suit, waiting. This is it, the final mystery; the key to understanding Olivia Pope.

"He was charming," she begins, her voice quiet. "A politics grad, a few years older than me. He took me on nice dates, made a fuss of me. It took me a long time to fall in love with him, but I did. I was finishing my degree at Yale, getting more and more involved in women's rights. Edison… didn't like that. He didn't say anything at first but I could tell.

"My friends never liked him, but I always told myself they didn't see the sweeter side of him, when he rubbed my back or bought me flowers. He still took me out, introduced me to his friends, showed me off. I guess I was his trophy, although I didn't realize it then.

"The problems began when I started to become successful; when we went to parties and people knew my name, not his. I hated his attitude but it made me more determined. I thought about breaking up with him several times but he always convinced me to stay. He was very… manipulative."

She sighs, fidgeting with her hands. It's clear to Fitz that she doesn't like this part of the story at all. "One night I was due to speak at an event by Amnesty International. Just a ten-minute presentation, but it was huge for me. Do you know what he did?"

Fitz shakes his head. He can't imagine.

"He cancelled it. He called the organizers with two hours to go and said something more important had come up." She's smiling, still in disbelief two years later. "We were going for dinner… with his _parents_. Can you believe that? The worst part was that he didn't even realize what he'd done was so wrong. My career, my ideals, my beliefs meant so little to him that he had no idea his behavior would hurt me. He said he loved me, but he fundamentally did not understand me. He didn't even know who I was."

She wipes away her tears. Fitz reaches out for her hand and she lets him take it. "I told him it was over that night. He could see I was serious, that he'd lost me for good this time. And so he said…" She swallows. "He said he didn't want me anymore, anyway. That he'd decided a while ago I wasn't good enough for him, I wasn't 'wife material'. He told me, perfectly honestly, that he'd never really loved me; that I was too 'complicated', too 'messy' to love.

"And that was it. I left, believing every word he'd said. I haven't seen him since."

She doesn't cry again. Maybe she can't, anymore.

Fitz stands and walks around the table, kneeling beside her so he can hold her close. "Livvie, I'm sorry you went through that. I'm so sorry. But listen to me." He draws back and looks at her, gazing straight into her dark brown eyes. "This is the most important thing I will say to you: your dreams are my dreams. Your happiness is my entire world. I believe in everything you do and I always will. I'll be your greatest champion because _I love you_. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone; a thousand times more. You are the love of my life, Olivia."

Her expression, so scared, softens.

"Don't project another man's failings onto me," he goes on, willing her to trust him. Yes, what happened to her was horrible but if she can't get past it now, then what hope do they have? "That part of your life is _over_. He's not the one who's here, holding you. I'm not him. I'm never going to hurt you. Why can't you believe that?"

Something in her changes then. He can sense it; can see it in her eyes, in the way she sits just a little straighter. "I can," she says softly. "I will. I promise."

"You are worthy of love, Olivia. Say it."

She smiles. "I am worthy of love."

"Again."

"I am worthy of love."

He smiles too. It is so good to hear those words aloud, to see a little of her self-confidence returning.

"Thank you," she tells him solemnly. "Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for… everything. I'm so lucky to have you, Fitzy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She kisses him and he savors her for as long as he can, trying to stay in the moment. But there's just one more thing he needs to do now, one more thing he has to tell her… One more obstacle they have to find their way around, together.

"Shall we eat?" she asks a minute later, running her fingertips over his face. "It's probably cold by now."

But he won't let her pull away. "Olivia." His voice falters and he can see she realizes the time has come.

"You want this baby, don't you?" she asks steadily, not breaking eye contact.

 _She knows. Oh, thank god._

His pause makes her speak again: "Just say it, Fitz. Let's not hide from each other anymore."

And with her permission, his dam finally breaks. "I really want this baby," he confesses, almost tripping over the words in his hurry to get them out. "I want this adventure with you. I want us to be Mommy and Daddy, to love and cherish this tiny human life we've created. I want to look after you when you're pregnant, to get excited with you about baby names, furniture, color schemes. I want to get up in the middle of the night to feed my son or daughter; to watch him or her grow and develop every single day. I'm ready, and I think we're ready too, as a couple. But if you're not… then I can't force you. I would never do that."

She looks taken aback. Has he said too much? He just couldn't stop himself, once he'd started.

"You've been thinking all of that," she murmurs, "for two whole days, and you didn't say anything?"

"I couldn't. I didn't want you to feel like you had to keep the baby, just for me. That would be a disaster for all of us."

 _All of us_. Like there's three of them, already.

Olivia looks wary again. "Let's eat and talk."

They share out the pizzas and she shows him her list of pros and cons. Fitz reads it carefully. Everything she's written is completely understandable.

"What's worrying you the most?" he asks.

"Hurting you."

He glances at her, surprised. That's not on the list. "I'll be okay. It won't change the way I feel about you. We can have a baby later, when you feel ready."

"But what if we can't?"

He's thought about this too. Maybe that's just the risk they'll have to take. "Then we'll deal with that when it happens."

She sighs, nibbling at her crust. "I'm scared I'll never get over an abortion. A lot of women say they think about it every day afterwards. What if I regret it? What if it tears us apart, no matter how hard we try?"

Fitz knows he has to be honest with her, even though it pains him. "It might. But having a baby you don't want a hundred percent will do that too, and that will be much worse."

She's quiet for a while, thinking as she eats. "We need a plan," she says eventually. "I need to know exactly how this will work if we decide to keep it. What will happen with your divorce, when we'll reveal our relationship, my…"

She gestures to her abdomen again. She seems to have trouble saying 'pregnancy'.

"We need to write the narrative before anyone finds out, Fitz. We need to be in control of it at all times. Do you think it's even possible we could pull this off?"

"Yes," he says truthfully. "At the end of the day, it's just journalists and stories. You're in human rights; they can't paint you as a bad person, it won't stick. And if you're happy, if _we're_ happy, then who cares?"

" _I_ care. Maybe that's selfish, but I do. I can't help it. I don't want the whole world to hate me."

"Why would they do that? We fell in love, Livvie. I was already separated. Sure it's fast, but when you know, you know - right? We don't have to say any more than that. We don't have to give them your due date. We can be vague, pretend you're not as far along as you are."

She's gazing at him, thinking hard. Is he convincing her? God, he hopes so.

"I… don't know," she says at length. She pushes her plate away. "I'm still struggling. I want to say yes, I want to see what you see, but I can't. I'm not ready."

"Then that's okay." Fitz stands up. He understands, but he needs to get out of here because otherwise he'll be on his knees, begging her to keep their child.

"You're leaving?"

"I have to. You need more time."

She walks with him to the door. It's obvious his sudden departure has unsettled her. "I miss you," she says, hugging him.

"I miss you too. Will you… call me, when you're ready?"

She nods, wiping tears from her eyelashes. It feels like they're saying goodbye.

"I'll see you... later," she whispers.

"Bye, Livvie." He kisses her forehead and then he's gone.

The next time they see each other, her decision will be made - and his life will be changed forever.

* * *

Monday afternoon finds Olivia sitting on a street bench a few doors down from a doctor's clinic. It's in a busy part of town with several stores and coffee shops nearby, so she doesn't look suspicious. She realized last night, after Fitz left, that she didn't even know what an abortion would involve. She went online and the words she read were running through her mind all night, keeping her awake: _surgical termination, mifepristone, products of conception._ It sounded terrifying. She needed to find out more.

And yet, as she lay staring at the ceiling, she couldn't stop thinking about Fitz's description of their little family, too. She woke up this morning scared, but for entirely different reasons than before. Now she's scared because she can see herself pregnant: she's spent all morning daydreaming about how she would style herself and wondering whether her favorite designer labels do maternity wear. When she closes her eyes she can see Fitz holding their tiny newborn baby, a look of total love lighting up his face. The more she imagines it, the more real it becomes; the more real it is, the happier that makes her feel.

As it turns out, the only thing scaring her today is the fact that she's not actually scared at all, anymore. And now she's here, trying to cross the threshold into this private clinic to discuss the possibility of ending his dream. And hers, too?

Maybe.

She shakes her head. She just wants to be armed with all the information before she finally decides and that has to be soon, because this uncertainty is killing her. The problem is, she's run out of courage: she used it all up to get here, knowing how Fitz feels, and now she's stuck outside. She has been, for almost an hour. She's almost too late for her appointment for it to matter, but she can't move either way.

 _An abortion or a baby._

She's at the crossroads, right now.

"Liv?" She turns. It's Abby, coming towards her, coffee in hand. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I'm just…" Olivia can't think of a good excuse. Her office is ten blocks away, her apartment beyond that. She shrugs slightly and Abby, clearly sensing something is wrong, takes a seat beside her.

"Is everything okay?"

Olivia leans forward, resting her head in her hands. Should she confess? It didn't turn out so well when she told Stephen, but what else can she do? She looks sideways, gazing at her best friend who looks so concerned. Then she sits up and leans in close enough to whisper it.

"I'm pregnant."

 _"What?"_

"Ssh."

"Sorry. I meant, what?" Abby whispers. It's makes Olivia smile.

"You heard."

She looks totally stunned. "Are you sure? Tests can be wrong."

"I've seen it, Abs. There's a little black and white dot in my uterus… it has a heartbeat." And it hits her then, for the very first time: she doesn't want to end this life, despite all the problems she might come up against. She doesn't want to kill her and Fitz's child. She _can't_.

"I need to get hold of Fitz."

"Does he know?"

"Of course. But I didn't tell him I was coming here and now I don't know what to do."

"Call him. I'll wait with you."

Abby is staring at her like she's never seen her before, watching her dial Fitz's mobile and then his office, when the former goes unanswered. She leaves a message as Maya Thomas, telling his secretary it's urgent and asking if she can please interrupt his meeting, just this once.

"I can't believe this," her friend keeps saying, until Olivia has to stop her. "Sorry. I'm just so shocked."

"How do you think I feel?"

Abby hugs her then. "I can't even imagine."

Her phone rings. "That's him."

"I'll be over here." Abby gets up and wanders a little way down the street, pretending to be interested in the window of a bookstore.

Olivia is so nervous as she answers the call. "Hi."

"Hi. What's wrong? I'm in meetings."

He actually sounds annoyed. She inhales, filling her lungs with cold October air, and forgives him. She knows how hard this has been for him.

"I'm at… a clinic." Olivia forces herself to say it. _Be brave, just for a little bit longer. "_ An abortion clinic."

"What?" His voice is almost non-existent. She thinks she can hear him falling apart.

"I was only coming for information, I swear. I would never have made that decision without you."

He takes several deep, steadying breaths. "Okay. So, why are you calling?"

"I've been outside the front door for the last hour and I can't go inside because… Because our baby is growing inside me, Fitz. It's getting bigger every day until it's an actual human being. That's… _amazing_. It's a miracle. And I haven't been able to walk away from here because if I do, I'll never come back. That will be my decision made."

He doesn't speak for several moments, clearly trying to work out what she's trying to say beneath all of that. "What do you want me to do?" he asks eventually. He sounds tired, like he was awake the whole night too.

"I just need you to tell me again. Tell me what you think we should do."

"Liv… This isn't my decision." He's choking up, the words getting caught in his throat. "I can't do this."

"Just say it, Fitz. Say it and I'll agree with you. I'm ready."

There are tears filling her eyes, falling onto her skin. This is it. This is the decision she's making, with the man she loves by her side. This is the moment everything she's ever known begins to change, forever. And it _is_ scary - but she knows she won't ever regret it.

"Wait there," he says hoarsely. "Don't move, I'm coming for you."

"Your meetings-"

"Fuck them."

She laughs, breathless with anticipation, butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach. It's a well-known feeling around him: everything they've done together has been crazy, unexpected; ridiculous even… And it's all worked out well so far.

She sends Fitz her location and Abby reappears, looking a little sheepish. "Well?" she asks.

"He's coming to pick me up."

Olivia can't even hope to hide her smile.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'll tell you soon. I need to see Fitz, first."

"Okay." Her friend is eyeing her suspiciously, trying to figure her out. "Well, I have to get back to the office. You know where I am if you need someone."

"I do. Thank you."

They hug again before Abby leaves. Olivia sits back down, her mind swirling with this new life she's just entered into. She wants to go shopping for baby clothes; to buy a book about pregnancy and read it cover-to-cover in one sitting. But more than anything, she wants to see the love of her life and make him as happy and excited as she is right now.

He's there in five minutes. She gets into the passenger seat, reaching over to kiss him. "How are you?" she asks softly. He doesn't speak, just drives off again. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere more private."

The tension in the car is palpable. They're both lost in their own thoughts. Olivia's hand is resting on her abdomen and every so often she catches Fitz glancing over, taking note. Is he picturing her in a few months' time, too? When she has a little baby bump sitting beneath her shirt, when their secret is out in the open? When he gets to put his arm around her in public and tell the whole world she's his girlfriend, and they're going to be parents?

He drives for about fifteen minutes, all the way to Randall's Island. They finally pull over on the side of the road, overlooking the river. There's no one else around. He takes off his seat belt and turns to her.

"Livvie."

She gives him the most serene smile. "Yes."

And it's not a question, but an answer.

"I haven't said anything yet."

"Go on, then."

He pauses, his gaze searching hers, making absolutely sure he hasn't read this wrong. "We're going to have a baby," he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

She nods; she's already crying again. "Yes. Yes, we are."

The biggest smile she's ever seen breaks over his face, the one he's been trying to hold back since the news first passed her lips three days ago. He pulls her into his arms, holding her so tightly she thinks he might break her - but that's okay. She just laughs softly and nuzzles his neck.

"I can't believe it," he says. He moves back to look at her again and there are tears on his lashes. "What made you decide?"

"Lots of things. But mainly you."

He frowns. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry, baby." She takes his hands, reassuring him. "I want this. It was _our_ decision. I'm _sure_."

A smile finds its way back onto his lips. "I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

"I feel like the luckiest girl."

Olivia kisses him again, harder this time. When they eventually break apart, she falls into the blue of his eyes without even trying. "I love you too, Fitz," she breathes. "I'm in love with you, too."

They're the truest words she's ever said and they mark the beginning of the next chapter of her life, wherever that might take her - and her brand new family.

* * *

 **TBC**

 **A/N: I have to say thank you, to the vast majority of you. Your support has been incredible, no matter what your feelings about my story line. I hope I've made you happy; I know I am. I'm so excited to keep telling this story and I hope you'll be there too. Happy Holidays!**


	19. Are We Crazy?

**A/N:** I won't bore you with why this has taken so long - needless to say, your reviews and messages have meant the world to me and have been the inspiration pushing me to continue this story. For that reason and many more, I can't thank you enough. You are all incredible.

This chapter is shorter than usual, but sweeter than ever before. I hope you enjoy it and I really hope I can update again soon. Much love.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Are We Crazy?**

 _'But that's why we kiss: to say with our lips what we couldn't before.'_ _\- Iain S. Thomas_

* * *

"Are we crazy?"

Olivia's voice is soft, breathy. Her fingers curl into Fitz's silky hair and she lets her eyes fall closed, powerless to resist him. There are so many things on her mind, so many plans she wants to make, but he doesn't seem to care about any of that.

Right now, he just won't stop kissing her.

All she can hear as they stand in the stillness of her bedroom is the sound his lips make as they sweep across her skin: caressing her cheek, the corner of her mouth; meandering leisurely along her jaw and down the column of her neck. Her head falls back, tilting her face to the ceiling. His hands are gripping her ass, pressing her into his hot, hard body. After four days, he's ready for her. He _wants_ her. Being desired like this by Fitzgerald Grant is probably the sexiest feeling in the world, and yet… As much as she wants him too, Olivia can't silence the thoughts in her head. There are too many of them; they're far too excited.

"Fitz," she whispers. She pulls on his curls, making him look up at her. He gives her a mischievous smile.

"No," he says nonchalantly, in answer to her question. Then he ducks his head again and begins to place kisses on her left breast: first on her bare skin and then lower, over the lavender material of her blouse. Either he's lucky or he's already memorized her anatomy perfectly because, within seconds, his mouth has found _exactly_ the right spot. His teeth graze over her nipple and she gasps: she's exquisitely sensitive after so long without this kind of attention.

"Fitz," she pleads. "We _are_ crazy. We must be."

She's not having second thoughts - far from it. She's just feeling a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the decision she's made, and she wants to know she's not the only one.

He sighs; nuzzles her breast with his nose, biting gently on the soft flesh just beneath her areola. Then he straightens up and gazes down at her, his expression lustful, amused and deadly serious all at once.

"We're not crazy. I've been waiting for you, for _this_ , my whole life. Don't you see?" His deep voice is full of conviction and he's looking at her so lovingly now, sweeping her hair back from her face with his fingers. "This was always meant to happen, Olivia. I was always going to meet you one day; to fall in love with you in an instant. We were always going to make this baby together."

He places the palm of his left hand on her belly and she has to blink back sudden tears. He knew from the start; he was always so _sure_ , from the very first moment they met - and he was right, all along. Before she can speak he kneels in front of her and lifts the hem of her blouse. She takes it off altogether, discarding it on the floor, her breathing shaky. She's trying her best not to cry but damnit, she's hormonal and pregnant and Fitz is… well, Fitz.

 _Pregnant_.

Her mind rewinds: that word catches, repeats itself over and over. _I'm pregnant._ It's the first time she's thought it and not been seized by anxiety. Now, she wants to yell it out loud. _I'm pregnant!_ She wants to laugh and run and jump in the air until she's exhausted. There's so much happiness inside of her, she doesn't know what to do with it all.

Fitz distracts her by turning her sideways so he can examine her body. He traces a line with his fingertip, from her breastbone over the flat plane of her abdomen to the low waistband of her pants. He places a lingering kiss just above her hip. "No change yet," he says, sounding a little disappointed.

"Not yet," Olivia agrees with a fond smile, and wonders whether her heart might burst.

He turns her again, back towards him, and this time presses his lips to the skin just below her navel. "Hi," he murmurs, his eyes closed. She's mesmerized by him; by his long brown eyelashes and all the tenderness he manages to fit into that one, small word. "Hi little one. I'm your Daddy."

He pauses there, perfectly still, as if listening for a reply. Olivia, on the other hand, suddenly finds that she's crying. No, not crying: that sound coming out of her mouth is half-sob, half-laughter; those tears on her lashes are made only from joy. It's a release of pure emotion and Fitz stands again and lifts her into his arms, laughing with her as if he still can't quite believe it. Two lovers, two soulmates… two _parents_ , sharing an unforgettable moment.

He spins her around once, twice, his face buried in her hair. When he says, "I love you," she _feels_ it. He really does. It's in every fiber of his being; completely surrounding her. They gradually come to a halt and he draws back to look into her eyes. She doesn't think his have ever been so blue before. "Thank you, Livvie," he says quietly. "Thank you for saying yes. Thank you for giving me everything I've ever wanted."

The way he's staring at her makes her pulse quicken; steals her breath away. She could live a thousand years and never get used to the incredible way Fitz's love makes her feel.

"You don't need to thank me," she replies, studying his face from her elevated position, marveling at how truly handsome he is. "It was _our_ decision. I know you tried to make it mine but it always belonged to both of us. I couldn't have done anything without you, Fitz. This is _our_ baby."

His smile is so wide it shows off all his teeth. "Say that again," he requests sweetly, making Olivia smile too.

" _Our baby."_

She rubs her nose against his and they laugh together - that soft kind of laughter, on the exhale. His arms squeeze her more tightly, hugging her close, before he lowers her feet back to the floor.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that," he admits.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to saying it."

Not for the first time, she pictures holding her newborn child: a tiny, warm bundle, its skin a perfect blend of hers and Fitz's, its little face so peaceful in sleep. This will be her life in… thirty-two weeks' time.

Eight months.

She has eight whole _months_ to prepare. That realization calms her fears considerably.

"What do you want to do now?" Fitz is asking. "Do you want to talk, to plan? To read your books?"

She'd made him stop at Barnes & Noble on their way home, after she'd looked up the bestsellers in the pregnancy category on Amazon. "I don't know which one to choose," she'd said, panicking slightly, as he was getting out of the car.

He'd looked back at her, clearly amused. "Don't worry, I think I can handle this."

Ten minutes later, he'd presented her with five different books covering everything from conception to parenting. There was even a sixth which was specifically aimed at fathers-to-be. "I thought you'd want to be prepared," he'd explained, and she'd thrown her arms around him because he already knew her so well.

As soon as they'd arrived at her apartment, she'd wanted to start reading straight away but Fitz had had other ideas, taking her hand and drawing her into the bedroom. Now, still locked in his embrace and high on endorphins and excitement, the rest of the world can wait. The only thing she needs in this moment is to kiss him; to _show_ him that what she said on Randall's Island is true - she loves him. She's in love with him, too.

So, she does.

It takes him one second to respond; one minute to get her onto the bed, covering her body with his. Olivia loses herself in his ravenous kisses as they writhe together, both desperate for closeness after three long days apart and in this brand-new place, where life has changed irrevocably and they love each other in more and deeper ways than ever before - ways they are only just beginning to understand. Her nails graze against his skin as she pulls roughly at his shirt and Fitz kneels up so he can throw it off, giving her chance to appreciate the sight of his bare torso as he removes her pants and discards them too. He takes a moment just to look at her lying there beneath him, wearing nothing but her underwear, and when his gaze finally meets her they share a secret smile. She's the most beautiful woman in the world - he knows it, she feels it - and nobody else has a clue.

Fitz starts to move forward again and instinctively she bends at the hips and knees, letting her legs fall apart, opening herself to him as he rejoins her. Memory always dims it: that sweet explosion, those _fireworks_ , when he presses his rock-solid cock directly against her clit for the first time. Her back arches off the bed as vibrations of pleasure ripple through her, pushing all the air out of her lungs and into the atmosphere as one long, loud moan. No matter how often she's experienced it with him already, and how many thousands of times she will again, she always forgets in the between just how exquisite it feels when her body is awakened like this.

"Baby," he breathes against her neck, biting there as his hands find hers and their fingers intertwine. He makes his way to her lips and begins to roll his hips against hers, letting her whimper freely into his mouth, groaning along too. After a little while he withdraws once more, just long enough to remove the rest of his clothes, to slide her panties down her legs and off. When he kisses her again, nestling himself back between her thighs, his tip teasing her entrance in the most torturous way, a sudden thought breaks through Olivia's hazy brain and she turns her face away, breaking their connection.

"Wait," she pants, pushing on his shoulders to give herself some breathing space. "Can we…" Even as she's speaking she realizes that what she's about to say is ridiculous, but Fitz is looking at her with interest and concern.

"Can we what?"

She smiles, embarrassed. "We can still have sex now I'm pregnant, right?"

His amusement lights up his whole face and she tries not to blush. "Yes, we can."

"How do you know?"

He actually laughs. "I just do. Why wouldn't we be able to?"

She's trying to think of any references to sex during pregnancy she might have come across before - they are surprisingly sparse in modern pop-culture. "Knocked Up," she says suddenly, making Fitz frown.

"What?"

"The film. Katherine Heigl is pregnant and they have sex. Or they try to, at least. The guy is worried about hurting the baby."

Fitz smiles patiently and kisses her. "I've never heard of it, but I know our baby will be fine. I also know that no couples go nine months without sex. The Earth's population would have died out thousands of years ago."

She must still look skeptical because he moves off of her and reaches over the edge of the bed to pick up something from the floor - his phone. He unlocks it and hands it to her. "Google it."

"What? No, I- "

"Just do it," he presses. "I know you. You need to make sure."

She can't help but return his grin. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, baby."

Ten seconds later, she has her answer. "Okay. We're good."

"You sure?"

He takes the phone from her and tosses it back onto the pile of their clothes. She puts her arms around him and draws him close again. "Very," she sighs, kissing him.

Instead of continuing right where they left off, Fitz trails his lips down her body this time, finally removing her bra on the way past. He plays with her nipples for a little while, rapidly escorting her right back to the heights of arousal she'd just left, and then continues on to her abdomen.

"Soon your tummy will grow, Livvie," he says, nuzzling her skin. "I can't wait. You're gonna look so gorgeous… So sexy."

She wasn't expecting to hear that last part. "You think so?" she asks quietly. She tries to imagine it - will being pregnant make her feel sexy? The answer comes to her immediately, without conscious thought: yes, it will. It's yet another new aspect of this situation that she hasn't even begun to contemplate and she adds it to her mental list of 'feelings she needs to work through later'.

"I definitely think so," Fitz murmurs, reclaiming her attention. His fiery gaze holds hers for a moment before he begins to kiss her clit, to circle her with the wet heat of his tongue, and that's their conversation over; the beginning of the end.

He takes her right to the edge with his mouth, to the point where she's just starting to fall, so tense she can barely draw breath - and then he moves, swiftly, and he's pounding into her so hard that she falls anyway, weightless, blinded with pleasure. This is the kind of love they always make when they've been apart - sweet, quiet, frantic - but after the events of the past few days, it's a thousand times more emotional than ever before.

Olivia holds him close as he follows, tears stinging her eyes. She's going to be a _mother_ ; she's bound herself to this man for the rest of her life, to raising their child together. There are a million hurdles ahead - just thinking about them makes her head ache - but that doesn't matter. It _can't_ matter, now. Everything she does from this moment on is for her baby, and for the man in her arms. Her family.

In these silent, post-coital minutes as her mind and body calm, her pregnancy becomes so much more than just a choice they had to make. It's a blessing. It's a _privilege_.

And, already, she knows that growing and nurturing her baby will be the best thing she'll ever accomplish.

* * *

Much later that evening they're sharing a bubble bath, Olivia resting against his chest, each reading one of their new books. Fitz had had to go back to his office briefly to attend one important meeting, and had returned just as it was getting dark with almost the entire contents of a deli. He'd laid them all out on a blanket on her living room floor: a decadent, indoor picnic.

"I want to do this with you in the middle of Central Park," he'd told her, in between her grateful and loving kisses. "I want to get this fucking divorce finished with. I'm gonna call my lawyer first thing tomorrow and ask what the damn hold up is."

Olivia said nothing but inside, she was jumping for joy.

They sat propped up against cushions and Fitz poured sparkling white grape juice into two of her best flutes. "I wish we could celebrate properly," he'd said solemnly. "I thought about taking you out, but tonight of all nights I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you. At least here, we can do this…"

He'd kissed her neck; tasted the bubbles on her lips. His free hand slid over her belly and she covered it with hers, feeling as giddy as if she were really drinking Champagne.

Olivia checked one of her books and discovered she had to avoid soft cheeses and pâté, sliced cooked meats and unwashed salad; basically, most of the foods he'd bought. "There's so much to learn," he'd sighed after she'd assured him she really didn't mind just eating the bread, olives, hummus and other Greek dips.

She'd handed the book to him with a cheeky smile. "Better get reading then."

Somewhere between the salted caramel mousse (made with pasteurized cream - she'd checked the label) and their playful, increasingly heated kisses, she'd remembered she had one huge piece of news she hadn't actually shared with him yet. From her purse, she pulled out the sonogram report and showed it to him.

"June seventh," she'd said softly as he looked at it, trying to take in all the new terminology. "That's my due date. The day we get to meet our baby."

His eyes met hers, as full of wonder as if she'd just told him the best news all over again. "June seventh," he'd repeated, committing this most precious date to memory. "The day before my mom's birthday."

If Olivia didn't already believe in fate, that might just have convinced her.

"That's… amazing," she'd whispered, hugging him close. No doubt he was thinking exactly the same thing as her: how much he'd love for his mother - for both of their mothers, in fact - to be able to meet their grandchild.

"It is," he'd said, his voice steady, drawing back to gaze into her eyes. Clearly, it was not the right time to feel sad. "Everything about this is amazing, Livvie. Everything."

They'd ended up making love there on the floor, both kneeling facing the sofa where Olivia eventually fell forwards to rest as the aftershocks of her orgasm began to dissipate. He'd left her there, wrapped up in a blanket with another glass of grape juice, while he'd run a bath and lit almost every candle she owned.

And now here they are, perfectly peaceful; breaking the silence only to comment on something they've read, some new and wonderful pregnancy fact, or to languidly caress each other's bare bodies and make the water swirl gently around the tub.

"I have a confession to make," Olivia says at length, closing her book and letting it fall to the floor. She turns around to face him and he discards his, too. He's looking at her with curiosity, and contentment, and utter devotion. If ever there was a photograph of 'love', it would be of his face, right at this moment.

It's so stunning, it takes her breath away.

"What?" he asks with a wider smile, a small frown.

She shakes her head; tries to remember what she was going to say, and fails. "Nothing… You just look so happy."

"I am." He draws her towards him; they maneuver until she's straddling his lap, her legs wrapped around his back. The friction-less movement between their slippery skin feels so luxurious. "You have made me the happiest man in the whole world, Olivia Pope, and I _love_ you - more than I'll ever be able to tell you."

She's always had trouble with those three little words; has never understood why they're called 'little' when they cost so much, and lead to so much trouble. But Fitz seems to make them easy: both to hear, and to say.

"I love you too," she murmurs, effortlessly, watching the way his eyes light up as she presses her smiling lips to his. Her fingers tangle themselves in his damp hair and she caresses his curls as they continue to kiss, basking in such a sensuous moment.

"We need to do this more often," he says, his voice low and relaxed.

"What, accidentally get pregnant?" she jokes.

She feels the laughter deep in his chest. "Have baths together. How come we've never done it before now? I mean, you're naked and wet and so… easily accessible."

To illustrate his point, he takes her left nipple into his mouth at the same time his hand slips between her legs, stroking her, teasing by threatening to dip his fingers inside.

"Fitz," she gasps, and he withdraws.

"Sorry," he says, smirking. "I can never resist."

She takes a breath, regathering herself. "You might be able to, once I have stretch marks and swollen ankles and- "

His kiss stops her. "I said _never_ ," he admonishes, his tone serious. "I want you to remember this, sweet baby. Never means never." His expression softens and he outlines her face with his fingertips, adoring her. "Don't you realize that you growing our baby will only make me more attracted to you; even more in love? Your body is miraculous. I'm already in awe and you haven't even begun to change yet."

As ever, the sincerity of his words moves her deeply. "Thank you," she says quietly, because there's no other possible response.

"Anytime, beautiful."

Fitz decides it's time to get out and brings a towel over for her, wrapping it around her body and then helping her out of the bathtub. "I wonder how long I can hide it," Olivia muses as she lets him dry her. If he insists on pampering her, she's more than willing to accept. "I'm supposed to start showing around twelve weeks, but apparently every woman is different so it could be some time before or after then."

She can't pretend otherwise: despite all the stress it will cause, the thought of having a little baby bump fills her with excitement.

"I guess it depends on how quickly you grow," Fitz says, leading her into the bedroom. "I don't want you to have to hide at all, though. I want the whole damn world to know."

Olivia pulls on her panties and London t-shirt before crossing the room to him, where he's dressing in boxers and a gray tee. She waits until he's done and then wraps her arms around his waist. "So do I, but not yet. I really think it would be better to wait until you're divorced. We can announce our relationship and then, a bit later, make a small, casual mention of the fact we're having a baby together."

Fitz sighs. She knows what he's thinking: that this is all his fault for being married, for not being able to hurry proceedings along more quickly.

"Hey," she says, squeezing him tightly. "It is what it is. Don't you dare feel bad. Smiles only."

It's a phrase which takes them right back to London, to their last morning in the hotel when he held her and said exactly the same words.

"This won't fit you forever," he says, glancing down at her t-shirt, obeying her command to smile.

"Maybe when it's too small, we'll be ready to face the world."

In truth, Olivia has no idea how long it will take her to fill it out, but it's nice to have something to aim for.

"Are you going to meet Harrison soon, to make plans?" Fitz asks as she moves away to her dressing table to apply moisturizer.

She shakes her head, looking at him in the mirror. "As much as it would give me peace of mind, I don't want to tell anyone else just yet. I like that this is our secret."

She turns and smiles at him; then, with horror, she realizes she's already broken the rule. "Shit. I forgot to say… I told Abby." She's certain she looks as guilty as she feels and hurriedly continues, defending herself. "I was waiting outside the clinic, trying to decide what to do, and she was in the area getting a coffee. She knew there was something wrong; I didn't really have a choice. I'm so sorry, Fitz. Can you forgive me?"

He gazes at her for a long moment - which feels like forever, in the circumstances - and then he smiles. "It's okay. She's your best friend. I really don't mind."

Relief washes over her. "Oh, thank god. I thought after Stephen- "

Not for the first time that evening, he silences her with a kiss. "I don't care that you told Stephen; I was only upset because you went to him for advice, not me. But I'm fine now. More than fine. You're the mother of my child, Livvie," he says reverently, cradling her face in his palms. "There is nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive."

It hits her in waves, the reality that she is really pregnant. Right now, a tsunami crashes over her.

"Wow," she breathes, trying to hold back tears. "I'm pregnant."

Fitz laughs and lifts her into his arms, carrying her to bed. "Don't worry baby," he says as he lies down, settling her on top of him. "You have until June seventh to get used to the idea."

His mouth finds hers again and his kisses deepen rapidly, flooding her skin with heat. "What happens after June seventh?" she asks breathily when he eventually lets her get some air.

He flips them over, his hands delving beneath her t-shirt as he begins to push it up, revealing her to him once again.

"That's when the fun begins," he grins.


	20. Trick Or Treat?

**A/N: As ever, thank you to everyone who left a review or a comment. It still means as much to me as it did on day one, if not more.**

 **I have researched divorce laws in the state of New York, but also employed some creative license. I hope you'll forgive me! Also, a lot of you mention Fitz needing to be rid of his wife asap. What can I say? She's Mellie. She's... unpredictable.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20 - Trick or Treat?**

"Time to get up, beautiful," Fitz says quietly, setting down a cup of lemon and ginger tea on Olivia's bedside table as he kneels beside her. She's buried deep beneath the covers; the weather has taken a turn for the worse overnight and the temperature inside her apartment has dropped several degrees. He's managed to find the controls for her central heating but it's only just starting to kick in.

He studies her sleeping face from just a few inches away, utterly mesmerized by her. These are the quiet, intimate moments he missed most of all through the long years of his lonely marriage. "Livvie," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her cheek. With a small, adorable frown she finally begins to stir, and he smiles. "Hi."

She makes a disgruntled sound in reply and rolls onto her back, stretching, which charms him even further. He moves to lie in the space she's vacated, uncaring that he's already fully dressed, and draws her close; buries his face in her neck and breathes in the warm, sweet smell of her.

Her arms wrap around him too and for a while they're silent; Olivia, waking up and Fitz, picturing a time in the not-too distant future when their baby will be here with them, cuddled into her chest, safe inside their embrace. It brings a lump to his throat. His emotions are all over the place right now: last night, holding her in the dark as she slept, he felt so blessed, so overwhelmed, that he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. In fact, they'd been brewing since the moment he stood in his office yesterday afternoon and she told him she was ready; ready to embark on the greatest adventure with him. He'd been pacing as they spoke because he was annoyed she'd interrupted his meeting - and only annoyed because, really, he was absolutely terrified she might decide to break his heart - but her words had stopped time. They had changed _everything_.

"Tell Cy I had to leave," he'd said as he ran past Charlotte's desk, barely trusting his voice not to fall apart. "Emergency."

His secretary might have replied but, if she did, he didn't hear her. Olivia's words - _"Say it and I'll agree with you,"_ \- were already on constant repeat in his head.

"What time is it?" she's asking now, still dozing.

"Seven." He moves so he can see her face and waits patiently for her to finally open her eyes. When she does, blinking in the early morning light, he can't disguise the joy that blooms inside of him. "There you are."

She manages a smile, too, and presses her lips to his. "Hi," she whispers. "I missed you."

"While you were asleep?" he teases, but he always misses her overnight, too, and they both know it. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

"Oh, baby," he sighs.

"It's okay," she says softly. "I don't mind."

It hits them both at the same time: the all-consuming, unconditional love they already have for their unborn child. It makes their smiles wider; their hug so tight it almost hurts. Fitz eventually releases her just enough to allow his hand to sneak between them, moving down beneath the covers until his palm is covering her abdomen. He rubs his thumb over her skin, saying hello to his baby; thinking about how Olivia's body will change, how one day her belly will protrude between them. He read last night that their baby will recognize their voices long before it's born and he can't wait to lie here on sleepy weekend mornings, talking to his son or daughter, telling them all about the wonders of the world.

"I can smell ginger tea," Olivia murmurs at length, her dark eyes shining with affection, with love.

"You sure can." Fitz kisses her before he sits up, reaching for the mug as she arranges her pillows against the headboard and rests back against them. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Fitzy. Mmm, so warm. It's freezing this morning."

"I've turned on the heating already - or at least, I think I have. Your system is pretty ancient."

"I know. This house is pretty ancient. But that's why I love it."

She gazes up to the high ceiling with its ornate coving, its original chandelier. Her room is all white - paint, carpet, bedframe - except for the wall behind them which is papered in a gorgeous, delicate floral and bird print. Combined with her pristine, expensive bed linen and carefully chosen scatter cushions in pale pinks and greens, they wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a Laura Ashley catalog right now.

"What are you doing today?" she inquires, looking at him again with such a beautiful smile. How has he gotten so lucky that this is his life now? What did he ever do to deserve her?

"More meetings," he says reluctantly, wishing he had nowhere to be but here. "We take on new interns every six months and it's time to start planning interviews, placements, visa applications. But first, at eight on the dot, I'm calling my lawyer. I _will_ make this divorce happen, Livvie. I don't want you to feel any stress about it at all, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees, reaching for his hand. She's quiet, contemplative, for a moment before she speaks again. "You know, I don't actually feel stressed anymore. I think I used up my quota for the year over the weekend. I feel calm, now. Ready. Happy."

He smiles at her. "Good. That's all I want." They meet halfway for a kiss, then Fitz stands up.

"Can I see you tonight?" Olivia asks. He can't help but notice how her free hand is now resting on her lower abdomen, unconsciously connecting her with the life growing inside of her; protecting it. She's a natural at motherhood already.

"You know there's only one answer to that question," he retorts, forcing himself to stop staring at her else he'll never leave. He picks up his jacket from the back of the door and puts it on. "Come over to mine."

"You mean Henry's?" She raises her perfect eyebrows, challenging him, and he has no choice but to walk back over and kiss the smug look right off her face.

"I do," he says afterwards, gazing into her eyes, but his thoughts are suddenly far away. He can't live at his friend's forever, especially now Olivia is pregnant. He's going to have to start looking for a new place, and soon - maybe even before his divorce is finalized, his house sold.

He adds it to his mental to-do list, then tucks that away and refocuses on the gorgeous girl in front of him. "Have a great day, sweet baby. I love you."

She runs the tip of her finger down his nose, pausing over his lips. "I love you too," she says easily, with a smile. He'd thought she might have trouble with those words after the trauma she went through with her ex-boyfriend, but she doesn't even hesitate. The progress he's seen her make in her sense of self-worth over the last six weeks has been amazing. He's so proud of her. And he'll tell her every single day just how brilliant, how exceptional, she is - because it's so true, and that makes it so easy.

* * *

"Miss King, Fitz Grant here."

He's sitting behind his desk, having been home to shower and change before arriving at work. As planned, it's eight o'clock exactly.

"Good morning, Dr Grant," his lawyer says in a friendly tone. "How are you?"

"Not bad, thank you. I was just wondering where we're at with my case?"

"Actually, I was going to call you today and ask you to come in. I've prepared your summons - all it needs is your signature, then we can send it to the country clerk's office. After that, it must be personally served to your wife. Now, you can do this yourself or, if you wish not to, either I or one of my team can do it for you."

Fitz replaces his coffee cup on his desk, his answer spontaneous: "I'll do it. I think I should."

"Okay, good."

"What happens after that? I've forgotten exactly what you said when we met."

"Well, your wife has forty days to respond by filling out the affidavit and returning it to me. If she doesn't contest the divorce, we can place your case on the court calendar. As soon as you've served her, we should all meet and plan to separate your assets. If you fail to reach an agreement, however, that's when it becomes more difficult."

"Oh, we'll agree," Fitz says, sounding more confident than he feels. He still can't figure out Mellie's reaction to the whole situation and, unfortunately, he _knows_ her; knows how spiteful she can be sometimes, especially if she thinks she's been wronged. He tries to shake off such unsettling feelings, running his hand over his eyes and then through his hair. "So, can I come down today and sign those papers?"

"Of course. I've already penciled you in for one thirty, if that suits?"

Her expression reminds him instantly of Mark. He hasn't even told his oldest friend about Olivia yet, let alone that she's pregnant and he's going to become a father too. He wonders absently how Holly and Sophie will react to the news they're going to have a baby 'cousin' in the States. He suspects they'll be over the moon.

"Dr Grant?"

"Sorry, I was miles away." He smiles apologetically, even though she can't see him. "One thirty will be fine, thank you. I'll see you then."

"Perfect. See you then."

Fitz hangs up and turns to his computer. He has a meeting in ten minutes but there's enough time to send a quick email to Mark and Annabel, informing them he has some news to share and can they FaceTime this weekend? Obviously he's not going to tell them about the baby just yet - he's aware that most couples wait until the twelve-week point because from then on, the risk of miscarriage becomes a lot lower (something he's sure Olivia knows too; something they are both too afraid to acknowledge out loud for fear of somehow making it real) - but he wants them to know about his new relationship, to see that he's happy.

He's so excited to finally say: _"I found the right girl."_

* * *

"You are _fucking_ joking!"

Abby's voice is so loud that Olivia has to hold her phone away from her ear, glad that she's alone in her office so no one can overhear.

"Ssh, Abs. Stop yelling."

"I'm sorry, but I'm in shock. You're having a fucking _baby_!"

She can't help but laugh. "Yes, I am."

" _Why?"_

Olivia leans back in her chair, her hand resting on her tummy, thinking. She feels so connected to her child already, in ways she could never have anticipated. She can't even begin to imagine what it will be like when she can see the evidence of her pregnancy; when the baby's wriggling around inside of her, responding to her movements, her voice.

"Why not?" she answers eventually. "I love Fitz. I fell in love with him as soon as we met, and we both feel like this was just… meant to happen."

"No, a lack of contraception ensured this was meant to happen," Abby says skeptically, but Olivia isn't offended.

"Well, maybe. But you don't understand - there's no black and white once you're actually pregnant. I always assumed I'd be able to go through with an abortion if I needed to, if the timing was wrong, but there was just no way."

Her friend lets out a long, incredulous sigh. "I can't believe it. I mean, yesterday when I saw you on that bench, you did look kinda happy - but I had no idea what it meant. I was still stunned by what you'd told me."

"I'm still stunned, too," Olivia admits. "Sometimes I forget for five minutes, and then it hits me all over again. I'm so excited!"

"Oh my god," Abby groans. "Who _are_ you?"

"A future mommy," she says gleefully.

"Can I be godmother?"

"Definitely not."

"Hey!"

"You would be the _worst_ influence."

"Hmm. Probably."

The line is quiet for a little while.

"Sorry I'm being a bitch," Abby says eventually, and she does sound remorseful. "I just feel like I don't know you right now. Before London you were so career-focused, so driven. Everything was about your work. And then you meet Fitz and you're this whole new, happy person - and don't get me wrong, that's amazing - but it's just taking a bit of getting used to. And now _this_ … You have to admit, it's all pretty fast."

"It is," Olivia agrees. "I'm more surprised than anyone. He's forty, he's married; he has this whole life, this twelve-year relationship, which I know nothing about. And I don't _want_ to know, but it is a bizarre situation to be in."

"I can imagine. I hate it when I date guys who've had relationships lasting more than six _months_. What are you gonna do about announcing it to the world?"

"Wait until he's divorced." She hates saying that out loud; hates sounding like the mistress, the girl who's forever waiting for the guy to leave his wife. It's not how she feels, most of the time, but occasionally she can't help but resent it. "I think we'll go public with our relationship as soon as that happens, and then a little later let it get out that I'm pregnant."

"Maybe you don't even have to announce the baby part," Abby suggests. "You could be really cool and just not mention it, let people work it out for themselves. Like Eva Mendes."

Olivia considers this idea, finding she quite likes it. "Are you sure you don't belong in PR, Whelan? I can speak to Harrison, find you a job."

"Anything is better than law."

"Still having a crap time?"

"Yep."

"Wanna hang out this week? I was about to say, 'let's drink wine', but that's off the table for me for the next eight months."

"Oh fuck," Abby exclaims, "I didn't even think about that. Why do you want to be pregnant, again?"

"There's more to life than alcohol," she responds, chuckling.

"What, stretch marks and diapers?"

"And nurturing new life, growing a human inside of me; raising them into a person. Doing all that with Fitz by my side."

"Ugh, you're making me nauseous."

"Wait until you're pregnant and feel sick every day from the moment you wake up until past lunchtime; then you can talk to me about nausea." Her office phone begins to ring. "I have to go, Abs."

"Okay. Thanks for calling. You know I'll always be here for you, even if it takes me a little while to get over myself. Ooh, can we go shopping for baby clothes? You are gonna have the most stylish bubba in the whole of New York City."

"I know," Olivia says, smiling as she pictures holding her little baby in her arms; taking him or her out for a walk in the park, wrapped up warm in their pushchair, Fitz right beside her. "I'll text you about this week."

"Cool. See ya, Liv."

She receives a text message about thirty seconds into her conversation with one of the researchers from the UN Women project she's working on. It's from Abby: _I didn't even say congratulations. CONGRATULATIONS!_ _I'm such a dick. Love ya xx_

She tries not to laugh and sends back a smiley face and several kisses. She knows her friend will support her no matter what, and she's not at all surprised by her reaction. Olivia herself would have probably had the same response had it been Abby who had suddenly fallen in love and decided to start a family. They've always been so similar in their goals, their work ethic - that is, until yesterday, when her decision sent their lives off on completely divergent paths. She can't help but wonder how their friendship will fare during the course of her pregnancy, and especially once she's given birth and her whole world revolves around her baby. Things will change between them, that much is obvious, and she suspects it will be years yet until Abby joins her in motherhood - although, as she herself has proven, anything can happen. She just hopes they are close enough to withstand the gap which will inevitably begin to form between them; that they will still understand each other, still make each other laugh, still be there for each other when they need to cry, once their days have become so incomparably different.

* * *

"What are you doing Friday night?"

They're lying facing one another in Fitz's bed, snuggled down beneath the covers in the low light of his bedside lamp. Olivia's scantily-clad body is wrapped around his and their hands are already wandering, leading their conversation towards its inevitable end point.

"Not sure," she replies, and they're so close together he feels the coolness of her minty breath on his skin. "I think there might be something happening…"

"It's Halloween," he offers, unable to resist the urge to kiss her. He'd intended just a quick one - or, most likely, a few quick ones - but she responds by pressing herself firmly against him, deepening the kiss, biting on his lower lip. She's horny - there's no doubt about it. She hasn't stopped touching him all evening; hasn't been able to keep the fire out of her gaze, despite Henry's presence. And, of course, being with her when she's like this has turned Fitz on too. (Honestly, being with her at _any_ time turns him on.) Sometimes, with everything that's going on, he forgets they're still only six weeks into their relationship; that their 'honeymoon period' is still very much in full force.

Olivia is moving now, her left leg rising over his hip, rolling them the same way so he's on his back and she's straddling him. She presses a trail of kisses along his neck, his bare chest and then sits up, looking down at him with a naughty smile as she rubs herself against his growing erection, making herself moan.

Their discussion is clearly over, and he couldn't care less

"Livvie," he groans, his hands settling on her thighs, caressing her soft cocoa skin. His hungry gaze takes in every inch of her: her curvy hips, her pale blue lacy panties; the planes of her abdomen, the dip of her waist, the perfect roundness of her breasts in her matching bra; her delicate collar bones, the slender column of her throat; her long, loose curls tumbling over her shoulders and, finally, the face he falls in love with every time he looks at her. She's observing him with hooded eyes, watching him watching her, and he can tell she's enjoying it immensely.

"You are so sexy," he says hoarsely, desire pulsing through him with every rapid beat of his heart. " _So_ fucking sexy."

He watches as she bends her arms behind her back, unclipping her bra; he actually salivates when she takes it off, revealing her breasts to him. Her dark nipples are already hard and instinctively he sits up, sucking first the right, then the left into his mouth. He absolutely adores how sensitive she is: how her entire body shakes in his arms; how her wetness quickly begins to soak through his boxers.

"Fitz," she gasps, pulling his hair, but he doesn't stop. In fact, the pressure she's exerting makes his blood heat even further - as does the rhythm they've created between them, their bodies rocking and writhing together, the air around them filling with hard breaths and loud moans and even the occasional growl.

The urge to be inside of her hits him suddenly and it's so powerful, he has no hope of denying it. His mouth finds hers, ravenous for her, as he frees his cock from his underwear and pushes her panties aside. She lifts herself, completely in sync with him, and she is so unbelievably wet, so hot as she takes him in that he has to break their kiss to breathe, to swear.

" _Fuck_ , baby."

Their eyes meet, lust-filled and serious, as they start to move together again; she feels so incredible that Fitz speeds up, his orgasm already fast approaching. He's supporting himself with his arms on the mattress behind him, using his abs and his glutes to thrust up into her. Olivia isn't even trying to match his pace: she's just letting him pleasure her body, her back arched so her nipples are grazing his chest, her face tilting skywards in ecstasy. He bites on her exposed neck, sucking her skin, marking her. That's the kind of mood he's in; the way she makes him feel when they fuck like this.

He nudges her jaw with his nose, needing to kiss her this close to the end. She knows exactly what he's asking; lets her mouth melt onto his, their tongues battling for a little while until they're both so tense their concentration is gone and now their top lips, their noses and foreheads are pressed together as they gasp for air, Olivia's hand on the back of his neck holding her to him.

"Fuck," she whimpers and he knows why, because he can feel her tightening around him; the first ripples of her climax building.

"Come for me, baby."

He holds her close with his right arm, all their weight now on his left, as his final thrusts bring them both over the finish line. They explode together, crying out incoherently, and the way she rides him - helplessly, her whole body trembling - takes him further and further. That they can desire each other so much they can come together in five minutes just blows his mind.

Fitz collapses backwards, exhausted, Olivia on top of him. Years of exercising, hours each week in the gym can't prepare him for this kind of activity: the total physical, mental and emotional exertion of making love to his girl. This is the best kind of tiredness.

"Wow," she breathes next to his ear, pressing lazy kisses there. He hugs her tightly, running his hands up and down her spine.

"Wow," he echoes. Then he starts to laugh, quietly, his chest shaking.

"What?" She leans up so she can see him, her expression questioning.

He sighs happily and brushes her hair back from her face with his fingers. "I just can't believe how… _amazing_ we are together. I can't believe how much I want you, all the time. We are _so_ lucky, Livvie."

"We are," she confirms, smiling now. She kisses him softly, lingering there a while, before finally climbing off of him. She passes him a tissue from the box on his nightstand and disappears into the bathroom; after another minute of recovery, he makes himself get up and join her.

When they've cleaned up and are tucked back into bed, Olivia finally recalls their original conversation. "What were you saying about Friday night?"

"Hmm?" He's distracted by thoughts of their baby, absently drawing patterns on her belly.

"Friday night. Halloween... Fitz!"

He looks at her, smiling guiltily. "Sorry. Yes. Do you have plans?"

"Well, Abby and I usually go out. She picks us some skimpy costumes to wear, we meet up with friends, check out a few parties. But seeing as they'll all be getting drunk, I don't know if I want to go this year."

"Wait," he says, his mind sidetracked again. "Rewind to the part about skimpy costumes."

"What about it?"

"Can you describe it to me?"

She giggles, shaking her head. "You just fucked me in nothing but my panties."

"I know. But we haven't played dress up yet."

The way she rolls her eyes is adorable. "Friday," she says firmly. "What's happening Friday?"

"You're dressing up in a skimpy costume for me."

This time her laughter takes over her body and he can't help but join her - it's contagious.

"I am not," she finally manages to say, but she's gazing at him so lovingly he knows she doesn't mean it.

"Fine," he sighs. "Cyrus invited me for dinner with his fiancé, James. I asked if I could bring someone and he said yes. I think he's dying to meet you, actually."

"You told him about me?"

"Not in much detail. He guessed I was seeing someone weeks ago; nothing gets past that man."

"Well, it sounds great," Olivia says warmly. "I'd love to meet the infamous Cyrus. Let's go."

He hesitates, his gaze sliding down her body. "Now you've mentioned skimpy Halloween costumes, I don't think I want to anymore."

She lifts his chin with her finger, diverting his eyes back to hers. They are glowing in the lamplight, full of love and promises. "I'm sure we can do both," she murmurs suggestively, and it makes his heart skip a beat. "What do you think - sexy vampire or slutty witch?"

* * *

Two days later, Fitz is waiting for Mellie in a Manhattan café when his phone rings. It's his father.

"Dad," he says as he picks up, glancing at his watch. He's ten minutes early anyway, and his wife has always been exactly on time.

"Fitz. How are you?"

They chat for a little while, catching up. Big Jerry is recuperating nicely, with no further complications so far.

"Listen, son, I've been thinking. Are you sure this divorce is a good idea?"

Fitz is so stunned by the sudden turn in their conversation that he doesn't respond immediately. "Um… what?" is all he can say. He thought his father had understood; hell, hadn't he even said he wanted to meet Olivia, to play with his theoretical (or not so, anymore) grandchildren?

"I'm just considering your future. If you ever decide to run for the Senate, or any position in government, Mellie's family have huge political power and-"

"Dad," he interrupts, finally rediscovering his voice. It's laced with incredulity, and poison. "I'm literally holding the divorce papers in my hand, waiting for Mel to meet me so I can serve them to her. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Okay, okay." Big Jerry backs down; Fitz can picture him holding both hands up in defense. "I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing."

"I do. I don't want to be miserable anymore. Is that what you want for me?"

"Of course not."

They're silent for a few beats, both regrouping.

"I'm in love with someone else," Fitz admits.

"I thought so." He can hear the smile in his father's voice - and, with a deep breath, forgives him. They've only just made up; life is too short to start bearing more grudges. "As long as you're happy, then so am I."

"I am, Dad."

"Then you have my blessing. Not that you need it."

They share a quiet laugh. "Don't forget," Fitz says, "I have _your_ political power if I ever decide to run. That's gotta be worth at least… ten votes?"

His father laughs again, loudly this time. "I'd say twenty, on a good day."

Fitz's phone buzzes, alerting him to the fact Olivia is trying to get through. "I have to go."

"I'm sorry, Fitz."

"It's fine." And it is, because he knows his father: stubborn until the very end. "I'll call soon."

"Okay, son. Goodbye."

"Bye." He switches the calls. "Hi."

"Hi." Her sweet voice instantly makes him feel better. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just having a coffee, waiting for… Mellie to turn up."

"Ah."

"Yes."

There's a pause. They try and avoid talking about his soon-to-be-ex-wife as much as possible. "Are you nervous?" she asks.

Fitz frowns. "No. Why would I be?"

"Well, I don't know. You're closing the door on a huge part of your life."

He shrugs. "I don't see it like that. I'm opening the door on an even huger part; a part I can't wait to really start living."

She sighs and he wishes he was with her so he could give her a hug; reassure her. "I can't wait either," she says quietly.

"I _love_ you, Olivia. I'm almost entirely yours. You don't have to wait much longer, baby. Now," he continues, deliberately changing the topic, "Tell me about your day. What are you up to?"

"Shopping. Trying to find something to wear on Friday."

"For dinner, or afterwards?"

She knows instantly what he's referring to. "Both," she says, her voice low.

"Any success so far?"

"Maybe."

"Photos?"

"No chance!"

He laughs, relieved they're back to normal again. "Not even a sneak preview?"

"Nope."

"Am I allowed to imagine what you'll look like?"

"You can try. I doubt it will come anywhere close, though."

Her flirtatious tones are turning him on and he's letting it happen, despite his current location, his impending meeting. "I'm sure it won't," he murmurs. "Can you give me a hint about the theme?"

"Such as?"

"Well, are we talking gothic black, Frankenstein green, pumpkin orange…?"

She giggles. "I said no sneak previews. Stop trying to cheat, Fitzgerald."

"You also said I was allowed to imagine, _Olivia_."

He hears footsteps behind him, heels for sure, and he knows it's his wife. "I have to go," he says quickly, hoping Olivia can hear the apology in his voice. "Let's continue this later."

"Okay. Shall I come over tonight, after dinner with Abby?"

"Definitely."

He ends the call with a smile, which quickly leaves his face as Mellie takes a seat opposite him. She's looking at him suspiciously and he wonders how much of his conversation she overhead - if any. He also wonders if he's getting paranoid about her; trying to convince himself she's against him when, in reality, maybe the way she's processing events is completely normal.

"I only have a few minutes," she says brusquely, by way of greeting. "I need to be back for a client at twelve."

"We could have met nearer your office-"

She waves her hand, silencing him. It's something she's taken many years to perfect - both at work and at home. He doesn't even care that it's effective, anymore. "I told you, I don't want to do this at work."

What she means by that is, she doesn't want her colleagues - all lawyers and paralegals - to see her being handed documents by her husband. There are a very limited number of conclusions they might jump to, and ninety-five percent of them would guess correctly. Ten minutes later, the whole company would know.

"Fine," Fitz says, passing the manila envelope to her across the table. If she's keeping it short, so will he. "There you go. You have forty days to respond in writing."

"I know that," she snaps. He ignores her glare and stands up.

"Are you free to meet with our lawyers next week?"

"Yes, my lawyer already has my availability."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you then."

He's aware of her gaze on him as he leaves, and it makes him feel self-conscious. What is with her? The last time they spoke - almost a month ago now, when she brought the photograph of him and Kim round to Henry's and he had to chase after her and explain - he thought he'd diffused the situation. Certainly, she went from angry and humiliated to… resigned. Sad. But now, she seems pissed off with him again and he has no idea why.

He goes over it in his mind on the walk back to his office and, by the time he's arrived there, he's decided to put her behavior down to her struggling to handle the end of their marriage, and to being genuinely busy and time-pressured at work. Unfortunately, none of those are things he can do anything about. He just has to sit tight, meet with her next week and hope against hope she agrees to write her signature on that damn piece of paper.

* * *

Fitz knocks on Olivia's door at seven o'clock on Friday evening, dressed up smart for Cyrus and James' dinner party in a dark gray, slim-fit wool suit with a crisp white shirt. She banned him from coming over early to get ready with her and, as such, he's brimming with anticipation at seeing her.

He isn't disappointed.

In fact, he's blown away.

Her tight, black dress is patterned with lines of bronze beading, creating geometric shapes all over her body: subtly outlining the curves of her breasts; redefining her already-tiny waist; leading his eyes downwards, to its hem just above her knees and the smooth, bare skin of her legs. She turns for him, pivoting on the balls of her feet in five-inch strappy black heels, and he sees that the back of her dress is cut out, showing off her gorgeous shoulder blades. But her outfit isn't even the best part. It's her hair: natural, corkscrew curls, spilling outwards and over her shoulders; framing her beautiful, perfectly-made up face.

The smile she gives him when he's finally finished checking her out is so damn sexy, he can't even speak. Suddenly he's kissing her instead; drowning in her, dragging her under with him. He slams the door behind him and pushes her up against it, ravaging her mouth, desperately trying to get closer. He wants to _feel_ her, to get beneath her skin. She makes him lose his fucking _mind_ , sometimes.

"Fitz," she gasps when he's sucking on her throat, his hands palming her breasts, his rapidly rising erection pressing urgently into her belly. "Stop. Stop!"

He doesn't. He _can't_.

He's kissing her again and she lets him, her fingers in his hair, her moans loud in his ears. God, he wants her. He doesn't think he's ever wanted her this much before. This overpowering lust has just come out of nowhere, completely bowling him over.

He does stop, though. She makes him, removing his hands from her thighs and pushing on his chest, forcing him backwards. She's breathless, bent over, recovering from his onslaught. With space between them, fresh air in his lungs, the red haze begins to clear and he realizes just how forceful he was being.

"I'm sorry, baby."

She looks up, surprised.

"What for?"

"I feel like I just attacked you."

Her laugh is low and smoky, laced with residual desire. She comes forward and wraps her arms around him, kissing him again. "I loved it," she confesses, gazing deep into his eyes. "You are _so_ hot when you're like that. But you were about to ruin your Halloween surprise… plus, we need to leave soon or we'll be late."

He glances down at her dress, wondering exactly where this surprise is.

"It's underneath," she whispers, so close that her lips move over his as she speaks.

Jesus.

Now he has to survive the entire evening knowing she's wearing something devastatingly sexy beneath her clothes. Coupled with their passionate encounter and all the arousal still coursing through his body, Fitz isn't sure how he'll manage it.

He kisses her, tenderly this time, for several long minutes; pouring out all his love for her as his heartrate slowly settles back to normal. He won't ever get over the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth. He will _always_ want more.

"I love you," he tells her, holding her tightly to him. "I love you so much, Liv."

Her eyes fill with tears and he feels it too: the raw emotion of being in love; of sharing one soul between two.

"I love you too," she says, smiling. She takes his hand and brings it to her abdomen. "Thank you for being my family."

He kneels in front of her and holds her hips, kissing her belly. "Thank you for being mine," he murmurs, and he's not sure whether he's talking to Olivia or the baby, or them both.

She runs her fingertips through his curls and they pause there, committing this moment to memory. It's been the most unbelievable week since she first uttered those fateful words in the dark. It seems like a lifetime, and yet it has also flown by. Today, she is eight weeks and five days pregnant. Fitz is sure the next few months are going to disappear so quickly, until he'll be kneeling here one day and she'll be thirty-eight weeks and five days pregnant. He wants to cherish every second of their time together until then but, at the same time, he longs to be so close to meeting his child.

"We need to go," Olivia says quietly, interrupting his reverie. When he stands, she pulls him into a hug. They don't yet have all the words they need to describe how they feel about becoming parents; sometimes, an embrace says it all instead.

"You look so handsome." She smooths down the front of his shirt, realigns the lapels of his jacket. "I love this suit. Is it new?"

"Yes." He nuzzles her neck, longing to stay close to her. "You look sensational, baby. Your hair is just… _beautiful_. I think that's what really got me."

"I hardly ever wear it like this."

"Why not? You should."

She beams at him. "Maybe I will in future. Especially if it's gonna have that kind of effect on you."

"I can promise you, it always will."

They kiss one last time before he finally lets her go. "I just need to put on my lipstick," she says as she moves towards her bedroom. "Good job I didn't before you got here, or it'd be all over your face now."

Fitz chuckles, thinking how he wouldn't care at all. He checks his appearance in the hallway mirror and a minute later she returns, ready to leave.

Her lips are painted a bright, matte red.

"Fuck," he breathes, because now she's even sexier than before. She grins mischievously at him as she passes, opening the front door.

"Eyes straight ahead, Fitzy," she instructs, pulling on a leather jacket. What is she trying to do to him tonight? "Let's go."

He can't help squeezing her butt on his way past; she returns the gesture with a sly smile, and he knows for certain this is going to be a long night.

* * *

"Wow," Olivia says as they exit the private car outside Cyrus and James's converted Carriage House. It's in a beautiful square in Brooklyn, just behind Grace Church.

"Nice, isn't it?"

Fitz takes her hand and leads her towards their front door. On the step are several pumpkins, artfully arranged and glowing with candlelight in the evening darkness. He rings the bell and, as they wait, puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. "You are _gorgeous_ , Miss Pope. I'm a lucky man."

"You are," she confirms, smiling happily, leaning into him.

A second later, Cyrus is opening the door - and the look of surprise on his face when he realizes exactly which Olivia is his guest tonight is just priceless.

"Good evening, Cy. This is-"

"Olivia Pope," his friend finishes, eyebrows raised to the heavens. "I know."

"Hi," she says warmly, stepping forward to embrace him, kissing his cheek. "It's lovely to meet you at last, Cyrus."

Cyrus turns his stunned expression on Fitz; when he catches the smug look on his face, it breaks the spell. "You sly fox," he says, laughing as he shakes Fitz's hand. He gazes between the two of them for several moments, clearly still unable to believe his eyes, before finally realizing where they are. "Sorry, sorry. Come inside."

They cross the threshold into the sleek, modern interior. Fitz has visited many times before but he always appreciates the original wooden beams, the exposed brick walls, the roaring fireplace. It's exactly the kind of house he would love to live in.

Cyrus is taking their jackets when his fiancé appears from the kitchen. Before Fitz can say anything, Olivia speaks first: "I don't believe it. James!"

"Oh my god. Olivia Pope! How _are_ you?"

They rush towards each other and hug, leaving Cyrus and Fitz looking at each other in bewilderment.

"I'm great thanks," she's saying now, moving back again. "I can't believe you're Cyrus's James. It's so good to see you."

"You too. You look incredible, as always." James finally turns his attention to Fitz and reaches for his hand. "Hey, how are you buddy?"

"Good, thank you. And you?"

"I am fantastic, although I feel a little underprepared now. You should have told us you were bringing _the_ Olivia Pope as your date. I'd have rolled out the red carpet."

"Seriously, stop," Olivia says, clearly flattered. "And can everyone please stop calling me by my full name? It feels so formal."

"Sorry, hon," James grins. "Anyway, come though. Cy will get you drinks, I just need to check on the duck."

They follow their hosts into the open plan kitchen-living area, separated only by original wooden pillars and a long breakfast bar.

"Your house is stunning," Olivia comments to no one in particular, looking around.

"Hang on," Fitz interjects, "You're not going to tell us how you two know each other?"

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Washington," James calls out over the sound of sizzling meat.

Olivia turns to Fitz and Cyrus. "We met several times when I was living in DC, a few years ago now. James was working at the Post. He actually wrote a piece on me."

"We used to have the _best_ nights out together," James adds from the kitchen. "Tell them about that time at the Jam Cellar."

Olivia rolls her eyes affectionately. "Maybe later."

"It's a good story."

"It's a _long_ story. And I think you had to be there to find it funny."

She smiles at Fitz and she looks so beautiful, so happy to have found an old friend, that the urge to kiss her is almost overwhelming. He loves discovering new things about her. He wants to know _everything_.

"Well, what a lovely reunion for you two," Cyrus says genuinely, interrupting the moment. "Now, what can I get you to drink Olivia? I have a delightful French cabernet I was thinking about opening."

As they'd planned on the way here, she declines his offer. "Just a water for me, please. I'm not drinking at the moment."

"Oh?" Cyrus can't hide his surprise, which makes Fitz smile to himself. His friend has the _worst_ poker face.

"Yeah." Fitz senses her hesitation. "I'm… detoxing."

"Right. Well, suit yourself, sweetheart. All the more for us then, boss?"

"Sure. Thank you."

Cyrus leaves them alone and Olivia steps closer to him. "I hate saying that," she whispers. "I sound so pretentious."

"It's better than the alternative," he reminds her fondly. "We've already shocked them once tonight; I don't know if they could handle our other news as well." He almost kisses her and then remembers that her lipstick would give them away immediately.

The doorbell sounds and James comes rushing past. "Trick or treaters," he says gleefully.

Cyrus passes them their drinks as they hear a group of kids at the door, asking the usual question. "He loves Halloween," he says of his fiancé; it's clear that Cy doesn't share this feeling. "We have so much candy, I swear it will last the next decade. Anyway, cheers. Welcome to our home, Olivia."

"Thank you."

"Now," their host continues, "I know you two met in London, but I'm afraid I'm going to need more details. Fitz has told me nothing."

They talk for about five minutes, mainly about the conference, before James returns. "A Von Trapp family!" he exclaims, accepting a glass of wine from Cyrus. "They were so cute."

"What the hell has that got to do with Halloween?"

"Oh, come on Cy. Who cares? They were adorable."

"Were there seven kids?" Olivia asks, her eyes wide. Fitz knows she's struggling with the concept that anyone could go through pregnancy seven times. Their one has already dazed them, emotionally.

"Yep. They even recited all their characters' names. I gave them two entire bags of chocolate eyeballs."

"Ah, now I see why you insisted we buy all that candy," Cyrus says sarcastically, but he's smiling. "You're trying to turn the next generation into diabetics."

"Don't say I never give back to the community," James quips, and they all laugh.

They sit down to dinner twenty minutes later: roast duck with marsala sauce, crispy potatoes and baby vegetables. "This looks amazing as usual," Fitz says, breathing in the delicious scent. He's eaten here many times before and James is an incredible cook.

"Thank you. A toast." They raise their glasses. "To you two lovebirds. I hope Cy and I still look at each other the way you two do."

Olivia glances at Fitz, blushing. She seems surprised that they've been noticed; he, on the other hand, is not. He's always watching her, fascinated by the way she moves, hanging on her every word. He's sure 'infatuated' is written all over his face when they're together, and he doesn't care.

They chat constantly over dinner: about how they met, Olivia's projects, James's current work at the New York Times. Roughly every ten minutes they're interrupted by more trick or treaters and James gladly excuses himself each time. When he and Cyrus are clearing up, refusing to let their guests help, the doorbell rings again and Fitz announces that he'll get it.

"Come on," he says, taking Olivia's hand with a grin. "This will be fun."

However, the sight that greets them on the doorstep is not so much fun as scary - and not because of their costumes. It's a family of four: a white woman, her black husband and their two adorable, caramel-skinned children. The little girl is dressed as a princess in a turquoise gown, her wild curly hair framing her delicate face. Her brother is only a few months old, cradled in his mother's arms… wearing a pumpkin costume.

Fitz's heart misses several beats. It's like looking at their own future. He turns to Olivia, who's smiling at the family, but her hand is squeezing his tightly and he can tell she's shaken, too.

"Trick or treat?" the girl asks, giggling and holding out her basket.

Olivia crouches down to her level while Fitz says a brief hello to her parents. He's aware Olivia is having a conversation with her, something about the movie Frozen, but his attention is completely focused on the baby: he is just the most gorgeous child Fitz has ever seen. Light brown skin, huge dark eyes, button nose, moist pink lips and tongue as he plays with his own fingers. He's wearing a green hat but wisps of his soft, black curls are creeping around the edges.

"Hi little guy," he finds himself saying. The boy looks up at him and smiles.

It melts him inside.

"Queen Elsa is so polite," Olivia is saying, standing again, addressing the adults. "I think she deserves a treat. But only if she doesn't eat it all at once."

"I might," the girl confesses as Olivia gives her some candy, and her parents laugh.

"Thank you," the father says, taking his daughter's hand.

"Thank you!" she echoes, skipping away beside him.

Fitz closes the door and turns to the mother of his unborn child, utterly lost for words. Seeing the look on his face, her eyes grow moist with tears and a huge smile curves her mouth as she pulls him into a hug. Once again, there's just nothing they can say to describe this feeling; this _love_.

After a long moment he draws back and kisses her, forgetting about her red lipstick, forgetting where they are. It's a fierce kiss, full of emotion. His arms tighten around her waist until he's sure he must be hurting her but she doesn't move, doesn't complain. She's right there, with him. They're in this together.

Eventually they separate, reality creeping back in. Olivia looks at him so tenderly, wiping his lips with her thumb. "Hmm," she says, laughing softly. "It's not coming off. You're gonna have to go to the bathroom to clean up."

They don't mention the family on the doorstep again but occasionally, through dessert and afterwards, when they retire to the couch by the fire and Cyrus pours him yet another glass of wine, he catches Olivia's eye and knows she's thinking about it too. It's an image which will stay with them both for a long, long time.

It's almost eleven when they finally leave, with heartfelt hugs and promises to do the same again soon. "You have yourself a keeper there, Fitz," James tells him earnestly. "And he's alright too," he says to Olivia, making her laugh.

"Let's catch up over lunch one day," she suggests to him. "I wanna hear all about your wedding plans."

"You'll need at least five courses," Cyrus adds, putting his arm affectionately around his husband-to-be.

James shrugs, grinning. "Fine by me."

"And me. Thank you both _so_ much again," Olivia says as they step outside. "Oh, and by the way - I was having too much fun I forgot to mention this, but please can you keep our relationship to yourselves? We don't want it to get out until Fitz is divorced."

"Ah. How's that going?" Cyrus asks him.

"A work in progress."

"I see."

"Of _course_ we'll keep your secret, darling girl," James assures her. "Journalist's promise." He's pretty drunk. They all are, apart from Olivia. She laughs and blows him a kiss.

"Goodnight," Fitz says, opening the door of the waiting car for her. "See you Monday, Cy."

"See you, boss."

Inside, they snuggle up on the backseat. It's a chauffeur service Olivia often uses: their non-disclosure agreements are watertight. "You okay?" she murmurs, stroking his abs.

He kisses her hair. "Mmm. I'm warm, well-fed, full of excellent wine and holding the love of my life in my arms. I could _not_ be better."

She's quiet for a little while. "Next year… can we-"

"-Dress our baby as a pumpkin?"

She sits up, looking at him. "How did you know…?"

He raises his hand, brushing his fingertips over her cheek. "I can't stop thinking about it either."

They share ridiculous, dazzling smiles. Olivia kisses him, her lithe body pressing into his. "What a night," she sighs, running the tip of her nose around his ear, along his jaw. "I don't want it to end."

She climbs onto his lap, straddling him. Fitz gazes up at her: illuminated by passing street lights, she is absolutely radiant.

"It's not ending yet," he murmurs, running his palms along her bare thighs where her dress has ridden up. He's wanted her since the moment he first saw her this evening and now, it's almost time. She's almost his.

"Are you sure you're not too drunk?"

"No."

He's pleasantly buzzed, his reactions perhaps a little slow; certainly, he's too drunk to drive. But at this level of intoxication, with this woman, his desire will be… uncontainable. What has been simmering for hours will suddenly ignite, as soon as he lets it. He will _burn_ for her tonight.

"I'm ready for my surprise," he says, grazing his teeth along her neck, making her shiver.

"Not until we get home," she admonishes.

"How long's that?"

"About five minutes."

"Too long."

She makes him wait, moving off of him; and then, once they're inside her apartment, she makes him wait again. She sits him on a chair in her bedroom and lights candles, puts on music - something he's never heard before, with a baseline designed to be gyrated to. She's never danced for him like this, in private, and he can't deny it: the anticipation has him rock hard already.

"Can you undo me please?" she asks eventually, turning her back to him. He reaches up, unfastening first the hook at the top of her dress and then unzipping the rest.

Red.

Three thin, red straps are revealed to him: one around her neck, the second around her lower ribs and the third, where the zipper stops, encircling her hips. There's lace, then, but it's mostly still hidden; teasing him.

Otherwise, there's nothing. Just inches of bare, glowing brown skin.

She vanishes into the bathroom, glancing at him over her shoulder on the way with the most wicked smile. She knows how sexy she is. What she can't appreciate, just yet, is how much he wants her; how much he _needs_ her. It goes beyond words: it's physical, thrumming through his body. It's instinctive. _Carnal_.

And then she reappears, and he stops thinking altogether.

The devil is standing before him, in the tiniest one-piece of crimson lace and satin imaginable, with heels on her feet and horns on her head.

"Happy Halloween, baby." Her full, red lips move and fire shoots through him: a roar; an inferno. "Trick or treat?"

* * *

TBC...


	21. Did We Wake You?

**A/N:** Firstly, thank you. I'm consistently blown away by your kind words. You guys are the best and I want to write for you all forever.

Secondly, I have to mention the guest reviewer who commented that I 'must be a beautiful person to create this beautiful world', because you brought me to tears. What a lovely thing to say. Thank you _so_ much. I've realized that I've never credited the man who makes me beautiful, who has inspired every aspect of my writing - my other half. So much of him is in my Fitz: the cuteness, the humor, the never-ending adoration. I've even stolen several of his actual quotes ('you look sunkissed'/'you look kissed' being my favorite). It's easy to write this love story because I'm living my own, right now. So thank you, baby. You're my best everything.

Thirdly, and finally, this chapter was supposed to take us forward a few weeks but these two just have a habit of writing themselves off in a totally different direction. This whole story was only going to be 3 chapters when I started it! Unbelievable now, almost two years and 140,000 words later...

This is fiery from the beginning - you have been warned.

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Did We Wake You?**

Fitz is having the _best_ dreams.

And somewhere in his mind as he dozes, sunlight creeping in around the edges of his consciousness, he knows they're not even dreams. They're _memories_ ; so extraordinary, so fantastical, it's hard to believe they actually happened.

Firstly, there's red. Red and brown; all lace and warm, silky-soft skin. He could sketch her lingerie on a sheet of paper. He spent so long looking at it last night, it's imprinted on him. Where the material touched her; where it left her bare. The scalloped, scarlet edges, rising from between her legs, high on her hips showing off those creases he so loves to tease; climbing upwards, dividing into two just above her navel, each band of material heading over one of her breasts. The satin straps formed a halter neck; held the tiny piece of fabric to her gorgeously toned body around her ribcage, her waist. It left so little to his imagination it may as well have not been there at all - but its presence, the way it accentuated her chest as the perfect sculpture it is, how it enticed him to reveal what was beneath, was a thousand times more arousing than if she had been completely naked.

The only other bit of lace was covering her ass - although he uses the term 'covering' lightly, because most of her delicious derrière was bared. She stood in front of him, facing away; dancing to the heavy beat with the most erotic, undulating movements. He won't ever get over that image: her glorious, round bottom, her toned thighs; the beautiful curves where they meet. He put his hands on her, and his mouth; pulled at the lace with his teeth, kissed along its borders. He bit her, quite hard, and made her moan; slipped his fingers between her legs and rubbed her, feeling her heat, her wetness. The impulse to bend her forwards and lick her, to bury his face in her, to _drown_ , was so strong and he almost got his chance but then she turned, stopped him.

She stripped him down to his boxers, looking at him the entire time; desire dilating her pupils, the thrill of the game curving her rouge lips. He couldn't stop watching her either; he thought maybe he'd never be able to. When the song changed into something a little slower, all bass and breathy, high-pitched vocals, she straddled his lap and danced for him.

It went on for a lifetime.

She didn't let him touch her - not at the beginning. His hands were allowed on her thighs, and that was it. Banned from action, all he could do was observe; _feel_. Her hot center grinding on his enormous, throbbing erection; the texture of lace and her hard nipples as she pushed her breasts into his face, over and over; her red mouth on his, so fleetingly it made him ache, like a thirsty man desperate for water.

He begged her - exactly what for, he can't remember, but he couldn't help it. Release, probably. Maybe he asked her never to stop. One thing he is certain of, though, is that almost every other word he spoke was 'fuck'. _Fuck, baby. Fuck yes. Fuck me, please._

He must have looked as close to the edge as he felt because, eventually, she climbed off of him with a smirk. "Please what?" she asked, her voice sultry. How was she still so in control of herself? He was falling apart at the seams.

Clearly, she wasn't expecting a coherent answer because she was already kneeling between his legs. She rid him of his Calvin Kleins, damp with both their excitement, and pressed a line of red kisses down the middle of abdomen. It was agonizingly slow. His breath caught in his chest, his fists clenched and still, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

When she wrapped her mouth around his cock and took him in almost to the hilt, he thought he was going to come. Certainly, his whole body pulsed, his hips rising from the chair as he groaned in a way he didn't know he was capable of. She was ready though, and moved with him; put her hands on his pelvis, pushed him back down. It took every ounce of his fragile willpower to stay there with her, to watch her blow him: to feel her tongue sliding around him, her cheeks as she sucked on him, those lips caressing his tip over and over again.

When she eventually looked up at him, so obviously enjoying herself, that was the end. His orgasm hit and her eyes fell shut as she concentrated on the finale, giving him everything; seconds later he exploded into her mouth - one of the most shattering climaxes of his life. He rode the wave, coming and coming, as she licked him clean and he floated, breathless and weightless, somewhere beyond his body.

A long time later he became aware that he was sprawled on the chair, his head hanging over the back, the ceiling gradually coming into focus. Olivia was lovingly running her hands over him, kissing his thighs, his stomach. He couldn't speak, couldn't tell her how fucking amazing she was but, from her satisfied expression, she definitely knew she had turned his world upside down. She moved to sit on his lap again, sideways, curling herself into him: the sexiest devil, who just wanted to be loved.

And god, did he love her.

Their kisses were tender, lazy; Fitz was still coming to his senses, still settling back into his own skin. He was so relaxed, so thoroughly sated and yet, at the same time, he knew he had to have her in that lingerie. He didn't even consider that he might be too tired - partly because he wanted to satisfy her, too, and partly because the very thought of it was already turning him on again.

"Baby," she murmured; a question. Were they continuing, or had she ruined him for the night?

He drew back to look at her; his eyes, his expression, must have told her everything she needed to know because from then on, there was no more talking. He pushed her legs apart and slipped his fingers between them, beneath lace and into her. He already knew she was soaking wet but feeling it for himself, the sensation of her sensitive vagina clenching him as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, sent desire surging through his veins once again. They gazed at each other as he slid two fingers in and out of her, unhurriedly; each time circling her clit before sinking back inside, deeper and deeper. When he'd spread her fluid around he used his thumb outside, continuing to fuck her, until she was kissing him again - _hard_. She bit on his lips and he knew he had stirred something wild within her; that she was flooded with pleasure, blood pumping, heart frantic.

He was fully erect, aching to bury himself inside her. He had never known anything like this before; never suspected, at the age of forty, his libido would still be so energetic, so easily rousable. In fact, previously there had only been a handful of times he'd ever had sex more than once in a short space of time - until Olivia. She did something to him; she'd bewitched him. She sent his hormones out of control. He _reacted_ to her - to her touch, her skin, her scent, her soul. It was chemical and it wasn't, because chemistry alone could never explain the truly incredible intensity of this connection they shared.

He played with her a little while longer; with her tongue, and with her center. She was begging him, just as he had begged her, but she didn't use words: it was her fingernails digging into his arm; the tension of her hand on the back of his neck; the way she whimpered into his mouth, pleading. He broke away, panting for air, and looked at her beautiful face, framed by those curls. She was so far gone, so ready to come, he was surprised she was still holding on. Her dark eyes were almost black in the candlelight and full of love, of _need_. This was when she was at her most stunning; when he craved her more than ever. This was when she gave her body to him, trusted him with every piece of her, and he broke her on purpose and then put her back together again, even more perfect than before.

He kissed her a final time; reached up and took off her horns because they were a costume, and this was _real_. Then he turned her so her back was against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder; she spread her legs so her heels settled on the floor outside of his feet. He trailed his hands up her body, over every sensational inch of her; finally cupped her breasts, massaged them. The way she writhed on his cock, nestled between his belly and the scrap of lace covering her ass, was making him grunt and groan in time with her rhythm, with the heavy bassline of the music still thumping somewhere in the background. He grazed his nails over her nipples, rolled them between his thumbs and fingers, squeezed them as hard as she could stand - and from the desperate quality of her moans, that still wasn't hard enough.

She snapped, not long after: one minute he was in control and the next, she had taken all the power. She leaned forwards, taking her weight onto her feet so she could rise up; pulled aside the red material between her thighs and, holding his cock in her other hand, sank down onto him. He was huge tonight - whether that was really true or just his perception, he couldn't say - and he had to fight to keep still as he felt her adjusting to his size, dilating around him. It was agonizing, torturous and blissful, all at once.

"Fuck," Olivia breathed, squeezing him involuntarily with her pelvic floor muscles, her hands gripping his knees.

"You okay?"

His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. He ran his palms along her smooth thighs; touched her clit, because he couldn't help himself, and made her spine arch even more, taking him deeper.

" _God_ _yes_ ," she gasped.

Then she began to move, and the most erotic minutes of his life began. She went slowly, sliding up and down his entire length; he watched himself disappearing into her body, further than he'd ever gone before, and felt his adrenaline surge, his arousal hit a new high. Because she was still bent forward at the hips, her back at forty-five degrees to his chest, the angle was _extraordinary_ \- he was stimulating her G-spot, filling her so completely that she was making sounds like he'd never heard before: raw and primal, they rippled through the hot, thick air around them, raising all the hairs on his body. If this was heaven, he'd happily have died right then.

She lifted his hands to her chest and he snuck them beneath the lace, playing with her breasts again. Or at least, he tried to, but his brain had little capacity for concentration when it was already overwhelmed by such obscenely explicit imagery; by Olivia's movements and moans and those fucking gorgeous curls; by the feeling she gave him which enveloped not just his cock but his entire being. Her fingers occasionally brushed against him as she touched herself; he felt the coarseness of the soft red lace against his most sensitive skin with each and every rise of her body. With almost every single one of her buttons being pressed, with all the foreplay they'd shared, she was ready to let go - and _fuck_ , so was he.

He began to speak, then; told her not to stop, told her she was fucking incredible and he was so fucking close and then he grabbed her hips because she was tiring, unsurprisingly, and helped lift her up and down, so wet, so hot, until she started to come around him, started to _scream_ …

His phone is ringing.

 _What? No, no, Olivia is orgasming on his cock and he's about to-_

But he's waking up, despite his desperate attempts to remain in his fantasy; daylight piercing his eyelids, so much brighter than the candlelit scene he's just left.

His phone is ringing, but that's the least of his worries right now. His whole body is throbbing, blood and lust thudding in his groin, and this part definitely wasn't just a dream: he really is right on the edge of climaxing. He reaches out to Olivia's side of the bed but it's empty; tries to call her name but his voice has abandoned him. For a split second, desperate for the sweetness of release, he contemplates finishing himself off. It would only take a moment, a few strokes of his hand… But he doesn't. It would feel like a betrayal and besides, it would never compare to her hand, her mouth, her soft insides.

Just thinking that makes his hips jerk and he redoubles his efforts to regulate his breathing, to slow his heart rate. It takes time, staring at the white ceiling, and willpower, but eventually he starts to settle down enough to stand, to make his way to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror above the sink and barely recognizes the man looking back. He's a wreck: tired, hair an unruly mess of curls, red lipstick all over his face. A sex-wreck.

He calls for Olivia again but she's obviously gone out; checks the clock and sees it's past ten in the morning. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, turning on her coffee machine before retracing his steps and getting into the shower. It must be a combination of a slight hangover and his fevered sex dreams because, despite the amount of sleep he's gotten, he feels exhausted.

He climbs back into bed once he's clean, sipping his double espresso, sending her a text to ask when she'll be home, to tell her that he's missing her. His earlier phone call was from Mark; just as he's checking the news online, his display changes to signal that the same number is ringing again. What he really wants to be doing right now is cuddling his girlfriend, maybe revisiting the final moments of his reverie, but she's not here and it's just not in his nature to ignore his oldest friend.

With a sigh, he answers the FaceTime call. "Hey buddy."

"Hey."

"Hi Fitz." As the video comes to life, he sees Annabel is there as well.

"Shit, did we wake you?" Mark asks, obviously noting his current state of undress, the roughness of his voice.

"No… Well, yes. You did the first time." Fitz tries incredibly hard not to think about exactly what they woke him from.

"Sorry mate. What time is it there?"

"About ten thirty. Wait, who's we? Are the girls there too?" He tilts the camera upwards, hiding bare chest, just in case.

"No, only us two."

"Good. I am completely naked under here."

Annie rolls her eyes. "Nice."

"Thought you'd like to know," he grins.

"Where _are_ you?" Mark inquires, frowning. "That's very nice wallpaper behind you. Very… feminine."

"Yes, Fitz. Are you having a sleepover somewhere?"

The look of amusement and intrigue on both their faces widens his smile even further. "Maybe." Then he hears the front door open and glances in that direction, which makes Annie gasp.

"Is that her?"

"Who?" he asks innocently. "I have to go. I'll call you back in five."

"No, don't you dare-"

He hangs up, laughing to himself. Those two always make him so happy. He's just as close to Annabel as he is to her husband: their relationship, their lighthearted teasing, is just as fun.

"Morning Livvie," he calls out and a second later she's there, looking absolutely beautiful as she slips off her jacket and makes her way towards him. She's dressed in a vibrant blue crop top and black yoga pants, her feet bare, her hair no longer curly but parted down the middle and plaited into two long braids. He can't help but stare at all the bare skin on show, particularly her tiny waist, her flat abdomen. Still no visible sign of her pregnancy but the thought of it makes his heart beat harder in his chest, filling him with love.

"Hi Fitzy," she says softly, kneeling on the bed and crawling across to him.

"Wait, are you sweaty?" he asks playfully. Not that he cares, really. He'll take her however she comes.

"No, it was a gentle class. Just stretching. Is that okay with you, Sir?"

She pauses just before she kisses him and they share besotted smiles. She doesn't need an answer from him: she presses her lips to his anyway, cool from the November air outside. He slides his arms around her, draws her closer - but within moments she's pulling away, stopping him.

"You taste like coffee," she complains, her nose wrinkled.

"Sorry, baby." He moves to stand up. Not kissing her is not an option. "I'll brush my teeth."

He can feel her eyes roaming over his naked body. "You're eager this morning. Wasn't last night enough for you?"

"Nope."

Her laughter rings in his ears as he enters the ensuite, picks up the toothbrush he left here weeks ago. He has amassed quite a collection of belongings in her bathroom: razor, shaving foam, moisturizer, shower gel. Enough for him to live here quite comfortably, in fact.

He's bending over the sink, rinsing his mouth, when he feels her come to stand behind him. Her small hands rest on his abs and she holds him tightly, her cheek between his shoulder blades. He finishes off and she kisses her way around his ribs, tucking her head under his arm so they can gaze at each other in the mirror.

"Hi," she beams. Her fingers drop lower, caressing the base of his cock.

"Hi." His eyes are questioning; she responds by taking hold of him in her palm, soft now but already starting to grow thicker, harder. "Baby," he groans. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel great. No nausea right now, as long as you don't taste of coffee anymore."

He turns, looking down, watching as she strokes him, rapidly coaxing him towards another raging hard-on. He can see her nipples are erect beneath the thin blue material which covers them and reaches up, scratching his fingernails over the left one. Her breath catches in her throat, her pupils dilate and suddenly he's bursting with desire once again. Fuck the phone call; fuck everything else in the world. There is only this girl, only _them_.

He picks her up beneath her thighs, loving the way it makes her squeal; takes the sound into his mouth as he kisses her fiercely. He pins her against the wall momentarily, pressing his body into hers as they rid her of her top; licks her bare breasts the second they're free, sucking on her nipples, making her body tense and her cries rise to the ceiling. He spins them, finding his way back to the bed; sets her down and pulls off her pants, her underwear, pushing her knees apart, diving between them to taste her. His need to be inside her, to finish what his dreams began this morning, is almost overwhelming but he tries to delay for as long as possible, to pleasure her too, because once he's fucking her there won't be much time for anything else.

Olivia starts to push him away, closing her legs; his brain is too hazy to understand at first, until she's kneeling low in front of him and blowing him once again. Her fingers dig into his buttocks and he can barely breathe because the sensation of her lips around him, the memories it invokes, are driving him right to the brink.

He doesn't stand it for very long. It feels like just seconds before he's lifting her, kissing her; lowering her back to the bed, lying over her, thrusting into her heat. She bends her hips, tucks her heels into his lower back and he tilts her pelvis even further with his hands, pounding into her, making her come in no time at all. There's no air, no oxygen when he's tasting her mouth like this but it doesn't matter because now he's coming too, emptying himself inside her, giving her his all.

God, he's missed morning sex.

In the calm after the storm, when they've cleaned up a little and he's recovered enough to speak, he tells her as much and she laughs.

"Me too," she sighs happily, nuzzling his neck. "Me too."

He cuddles her close, kissing her forehead. "I didn't hear you leave this morning."

"I'm not surprised. You were sleeping like the dead."

"Because you damn near killed me, woman."

He rolls on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his body as she giggles and gazes at him with such adoration in her dark eyes. "Are you complaining?" she asks mischievously.

"Never." He kisses her tenderly, basking in the simple pleasure of being naked with her. "Last night was fucking amazing. I woke up reliving the entire thing… For the first time in thirty years, I almost had a wet dream."

She looks shocked, and also like she's trying not to laugh. It's unbelievably cute.

"Oh my god!" She pushes on his shoulders; turns them again so she's straddling him now, sitting up and interlacing their fingers. "That's hilarious. What did you do?"

"I _almost_ did something bad," he confesses, unable to stop himself grinning. "But I resisted. It was damn hard though."

"I bet it was."

She wriggles her hips and it reconfirms her position as the only woman he'll ever love: their shared sense of humor, the way they understand each other, the ease with which he can share _anything_ with her, is once-in-a-lifetime.

"Stop that," he says firmly.

"Why?" she smirks.

He narrows his eyes. "Someone's horny today."

"Says the guy who almost came in his sleep."

His laughter hits hard, deep in his belly. "Touché, Livvie."

She leans down and kisses him with smiling lips, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. "I love you," she says softly, moments later. "I love everything about you."

Fitz holds her close. "I love you too, you horny devil."

Her body shakes with amusement. He reaches out to the nightstand where the headband from yesterday's costume is lying and puts the sparkly red horns on her head.

"You get to wear these today," he announces. "And when I'm the insatiable one, I'll wear them."

"So that'll pretty much be all the time, then?"

"Mm hmm," he agrees, and they laugh together even as they kiss, their sounds muffled in the warmth of each other's mouths.

Fitz never wants this morning to end. Unfortunately, the world keeps on turning, and his phone signals a text alert. He instinctively knows who it is and plans to ignore it for a little while longer, but guilt begins to get the better of him. It's been way more than five minutes since he promised to call his friends back again.

With a sigh, he moves Olivia off of him and finds his phone on the floor beside the bed. Sure enough, the message is from Mark, but as he reads it he knows it's Annie typing:

 _Five minutes my arse! Call us back! We await your salacious gossip xxx_

He chuckles.

"What?" Olivia asks, curled up against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Annabel is messaging me. I was speaking to her and Mark just before you got home."

"Ah. Have you told them yet?"

"No. I didn't really have time, between the issue of my rampant morning erection and you arriving back."

"Damn. Still can't believe I wasn't here for that," she says, smiling.

"I can promise you there'll be more."

"There'd better be."

He kisses her hair. "I should call them back. I said I'd only be five minutes."

"Okay. I'll go shower quickly."

"Come and say hi when you're done."

"Sure?" She's standing now, completely bare and totally stunning.

"Well, maybe put some clothes on first."

"Ha ha."

He has to tear his eyes away from her bottom as she walks away, because there are dangerous memories trying to resurface and now is not the time.

He redials his friends and immediately apologizes. "Sorry guys, I got distracted."

Annabel's eyebrows are raised to the sky. "I bet you did. So, who is she? We've literally been waiting here with baited breath."

"You make us sound so dull," Mark complains. "We haven't just been waiting here."

She shoots him an amused look. "Making a cup of tea hardly counts as doing something interesting, darling."

Fitz laughs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you."

"Oh, I don't care," Annie says, waving her hand dismissively. "Just tell us about this new lady of yours. I'm guessing this was the news you wanted to share. Are you dating her?"

He can't prevent an enormous smile from curving his lips. "Yes."

"How exciting!"

"So soon after Mellie," Mark says thoughtfully, and then looks embarrassed. "Sorry. Did I say that out loud?"

Fitz doesn't mind though. "It's fine, don't worry. You know, it doesn't feel soon at all. I met her in London and we just… fell for each other straight away. It just happened."

"Wait, you'd already met her when you stayed with us?" Annie asks, surprised.

He nods, still smiling. "I was already head-over-heels."

"Wow," Mark says, and it's echoed by his wife. "So, what's her name? What does she do? Is she English?"

"No, she's a New Yorker and her name is Olivia. Olivia Pope. She's a women's rights advocate-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. "We know who she _is_!" Annie cries over him, and he can tell this is gossip unlike anything they usually get to hear in their sleepy Oxfordshire village. "Oh my god! She's _gorgeous_ , Fitz."

"And young, isn't she?" Mark adds, equally stunned.

"She is both those things," he confirms with a grin. "She is also the most amazing person I've ever met. I _love_ her, so much. I fell in love with her the second I saw her. And there's more," he goes on before he can stop himself - he hadn't planned to say this but it's going to burst its way out of him anyway. "She's pregnant. We're having a baby."

It's too much for his friends: Annie jumps up, her hands over her mouth, while Mark just stares at the screen, completely shocked. Fitz is distracted though, because Olivia has appeared in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, her eyes filled with tears as she tries and fails to hold back a smile. She obviously heard what he was saying about her, heard him share the news they'd planned to keep secret, and she shakes her head slightly as if to say: _It's alright, I don't mind._ He drops his phone onto the bed and crosses the room, taking her into his arms.

A small sob escapes her and he withdraws just enough to tilt her face up to his. "I'm sorry," he says but she quietens him with a kiss.

"Don't be," she whispers. "You just said the sweetest things about me to your friends. And hearing how excited you are about our baby - how could I ever be upset with you?"

A tear spills over her lashes and onto her cheek, which he catches with his thumb and wipes away. "I meant every word."

"I know."

They share smiles, kisses. "Want to come and say hello now?" Fitz asks afterwards, taking her hand.

"Sure. Let me just find something to wear. And you should probably-"

She gestures to him, still naked, and he reluctantly lets go of her so he can pull on his boxers and one of the t-shirts she's washed for him, which are sitting in a neat pile on her dresser.

Mark and Annabel are still there when he finally picks up his phone again. "Apologies," he says. "Liv is here. She's gonna say hi, once she's put some clothes on."

"Fitz!" she berates from inside her closet.

"Sorry, baby," he laughs. "She was in the shower. Anyway… that's my news."

"Well, congratulations mate," Mark says emphatically, grinning from ear to ear. "You've made my day. And you've made my wife speechless, which doesn't happen very often."

When Annie moves nearer the camera, Fitz is astonished to see that she's crying. "I don't know what to say," she gushes, brushing away tears with her fingertips. "I'm so pleased for you, Fitz. You're like our brother, and we've always wanted to see you this happy. I can't believe you're having a baby! You are going to be the _best_ dad."

Her words bring a lump to his throat. He loves her like a sister, too. "Thanks Annie," he says quietly. "That means the world to me."

Olivia is waiting at the edge of the bed, wearing a gray v-neck tee and black leggings, and he gestures for her to join him. He loves that she is so at ease with herself, that she doesn't need to dress up or put on makeup to meet his friends. "Here she is," he announces, the proudest man in New York City. He tilts his phone to landscape so they can both fit in the picture as she comes to sit beside him.

"Hi," she says, a little shyly, given these two strangers know her biggest secret. Fitz watches the three of them make introductions; notices Annie and Mark taking her in, no doubt comparing her to photos they've seen of her, deciphering whether the Olivia Pope they think they know is anything like the one who's chatting to them now, young and beautiful and bare-faced, halfway across the planet. Fitz thinks she is and she isn't, in all the best ways.

"Congratulations!" Annie is saying to her. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel great," Olivia replies with a smile, and he can sense an immediate warmth between them. "A little nauseous in the mornings, but otherwise okay."

"Oh, you're lucky. I was so sick with both my pregnancies."

"Really?"

"Every day for the first twelve weeks. Actually, with Sophie it went on even longer."

"Darling," Mark interjects, "Don't freak her out."

Annie looks contrite. "Sorry. I'm just another one of those awful mothers who has a hundred pregnancy stories to tell. I bet you're already fed up of listening to us."

"Actually, I don't really know anyone who's had a baby," Olivia confesses. "And we haven't told anyone yet. It's still pretty early."

"Of course. How far along are you?"

"Nine weeks tomorrow," Fitz says proudly, because with every day that passes there's more chance he'll be able to see changes in her body, and he is _so_ excited about that.

"Nine weeks already?" Mark comments, and his wife elbows him in the ribs.

"We didn't waste any time," Fitz jokes. Olivia looks up at him, blushing and smiling, which just melts his heart.

"Ugh," Annie says, "You two are so bloody cute. Look at you!"

He laughs, wrapping his arm around Olivia's shoulders and drawing her close so he can kiss her cheek. "We are pretty cute," he admits. "Aren't we, baby?"

Olivia pulls away, making a face. "I'm so sorry about him," she tells his friends seriously. "He can be so gross sometimes."

"Oh, we know," Mark says, chuckling. "If you ever want to hear some truly gross stories about him, we know them _all_."

"Yes please, that would be awesome! What are you hiding from me hey, Fitz?"

He's beginning to get the feeling he's being ganged up on. Olivia is gazing at him with the most adorable, defiant expression on her face. The temptation to kiss her is strong, but he suspects she wouldn't be impressed.

"I don't like this," he says, frowning, and the other three laugh.

"She's already come over to the dark side," Annie teases. "You can't have her back now."

"I'm not sure what you can do about it from all the way over there," he retorts.

"Hmm, true. Well, you'll just have to bring her to visit us."

"I'd love to," he says honestly, suddenly feeling overcome with sadness at the fact that his closest friends live so far away. He gets used to their long-distance relationship, to watching his goddaughters grow up via photos and video calls, but every so often he longs to be able to spend an evening in their cozy home or take Mark out for a drink and reminisce about old times.

"I think we'd all have a lot of fun together," Annie adds and he knows her well enough to see that it's a slight dig at Mellie, who never had fun doing anything, particularly as a City girl in the English countryside.

"We would," Mark says sincerely. "Now what do you want us to tell the girls, Fitz? They have explicitly informed us that they want to hear all about New York and we haven't to miss out a single thing or they'll be very cross with us."

"Have boys," Annie mock-whispers to Olivia, who laughs. "They're much less precocious."

"I guess you can tell them that Aunt Mel and I aren't together anymore, and that I have a new girlfriend."

"Do you mind keeping me a secret, and especially the baby part?" Olivia asks them. "We're not going to announce anything until Fitz is divorced. It doesn't exactly look good."

Annie shrugs. "From what I've seen, it looks perfect. You two make such a gorgeous pair. I can't imagine it will be a huge issue, will it? Fitz was already separated when you met."

"I know," she sighs, "But I don't trust the media. They could choose to run with a completely different angle, to paint me as a homewrecker, because I'm sure that would sell - 'Good Girl Olivia Pope pregnant by older, married man'."

"Hey," Fitz says sternly, pulling her close again. "It's all going to be fine. I'll make sure of it."

She doesn't look particularly reassured but manages a smile. "We'll talk about it later."

"Do you have a PR team for this kind of thing?" Annie asks gently. Fitz can sense her maternal instinct kicking in.

"I do," Olivia confirms.

"We should meet with Harrison soon," he suggests, "Make some plans. I'm sure you'd feel better then."

"Okay."

He can tell she doesn't want to think about it anymore so changes the subject. "Anyway, how are you guys? We've literally just talked about me and Liv for the past fifteen minutes."

They chat for a while longer, hearing about Holly and Sophie, Mark and Annabel's work. Halfway through, Olivia's phone rings and she excuses herself to answer it in the living room. She returns just as they're starting to say their goodbyes.

"Sorry, that was work."

"The UN?" Fitz asks, interested.

"Kind of. It was someone from the White House about a women's health project we're collaborating on."

Annie looks seriously impressed. "Bloody hell," she says to her husband, "The White House calls Olivia Pope on a Saturday morning. What have I done so far today? Two loads of washing and cleaned out the guinea pig's cage."

"You also got rid of that rogue spider and threw out the moldy Halloween pumpkins," Mark adds helpfully, which earns him another sharp elbow.

Olivia smiles and, as usual, takes such comments with humility. "At this stage it looks very promising," she says. "I'm hoping we can take it as far as the First Lady. I would _love_ to work with her."

"I can see that," Mark says, nodding, which makes Olivia beam.

"Thank you."

"Now, before you go," Annie chimes in, "If you ever have any questions, Olivia, anything you're unsure about - or if you just feel totally overwhelmed and emotional and need a good cry - please feel free to call me. I haven't been pregnant for nine years but I can still remember it like it was yesterday: the pregnancy glow, the first kicks, those weird pains in the last few months which you're never quite sure what to make of…" She tails off, stopping herself from saying too much again. "Enjoy it, both of you. It's the best time. Once the baby comes, your lives will never be the same again."

Fitz looks at the woman he loves and can see his own excitement reflected in her eyes. "Thank you, Annie," she says, turning back to the screen. She's clearly touched. "That's so kind of you. It was so lovely to chat to you both."

"You too."

"Fitzgerald, my friend," Mark says with a grin, "You are one lucky man."

"I know."

"We're over the moon for you." Annie blows them a kiss. "Take care of yourselves. And let us know when you're going to visit us!"

"We will. Love to the girls."

"Of course. Bye!"

"See you."

He ends the call. Olivia climbs onto his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. "Your friends are _so_ nice, Fitz. I'm sorry I freaked out a bit over the media thing. I hope I didn't come across as childish."

"Not at all." He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "I do think Annie's right, though."

She sighs. "I don't want to talk about it now."

"Okay."

He backs down, but decides in that moment to call Harrison next week, to see what her PR manager thinks of their situation. He won't reveal her pregnancy, just discuss their relationship. He understands Olivia's fear but he's not entirely sure how realistic it is, and he's worried about her. It's obviously causing her stress and that's the last thing he wants for her right now.

"What do you wanna do this afternoon?" he asks, pressing kisses to her mouth, her jaw. He starts to massage her shoulders too and she's quiet for a little while, letting him play with her.

"What I really want," she says eventually, her voice small, "Is to go somewhere with you where we can be a couple. I want to walk outside holding your hand. I want you to kiss me under the sky, somewhere the whole world can see us."

Fitz looks at her, suddenly so melancholy. All their talk of outing their relationship has robbed her of her good mood and he feels terrible. "Okay," he says softly. "Let's do it."

"But where?"

"Do you own hiking boots?"

"Yes."

"Then I know just the place."

Her smile is so bright it seems to light up the room. "Thank you, Fitzy. I love you."

He kisses her, passionately, holding her small body to him. She is just so precious. He doesn't know how he'd survive without her, now.

"Love you too. Come on, let's go."

* * *

They drive out to Harriman State Park, just an hour upstate from the city. Olivia has been here before; in fact, it was one of her parents' favorite places to bring her as a child and she tells Fitz this, reminiscing about her mom, their adventures together.

"It looks busy," she warns as they get nearer, traffic starting to build up in the small towns they pass through.

"Well, it is the weekend," Fitz says lightly. "But don't worry, I'm taking you to my favorite spot. Not many people know about it."

He eventually parks up beside several other cars at the start of a hiking trail. Signs indicate they're near Silver Mine Lake. It's a beautiful fall day: sun shining, blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and a slight chill in the air. The weather is perfect for her disguise: a knit hat, thick coat and sunglasses. With her hair braided and no makeup on, she doubts anyone would recognize her unless they got really close.

Fitz kisses her after he's locked the car, uncaring about the families nearby who are milling around. It's just a peck but, followed by that irresistible smile of his, it means everything to her. She sneaks a glance around and no one has noticed a thing. It's so thrilling, she reaches up and kisses him again - simply because she can.

He leads her away from the main path, which is busy with hikers, and onto a smaller trail heading off to the east. The freedom she feels being able to hold his hand out here makes her heart soar. She loves how soft his skin is; how his fingers curl around hers, squeezing tight. This path is rocky in places and soon they start to ascend - and he doesn't let go of her once. At one point, for no particular reason at all, he uses their joined hands to pull her into his body and catches her breathless squeal in his mouth. The contrast between his warm, smiling lips and his cold nose on her cheek makes her knees weak. They are outdoors, free to act like a normal couple, and it is _everything_.

They're both fit but they're out of breath by the time they reach the peak of the hill. Fitz draws her onward, off the track now, until they reach a small clearing and the most stunning sight comes into view.

"Oh, wow," she murmurs, taking off her sunglasses.

"I know."

He stands behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin tucked over her shoulder. The lake in front of them is perfectly still and bright blue, mirroring the sky, the clouds. The trees around its edge are the same ones they've been walking beneath - red, pink, amber, yellow and green; a symphony of fall color - but reflected in the water, the whole scene is twice as bright and a hundred times more spectacular.

"I've never been here at this time of year before," he says near her ear, the timbre of his voice and the kisses he places on her sensitive skin making her shiver. "It's so beautiful."

His hands are in her coat pockets and she slips hers inside too, linking their fingers. They stay there for a long time, their hearts beating together, silently absorbing the tranquility, the peace, the untouched glory of nature. Apart from the birds swooping and calling overhead, there isn't another soul to be seen for miles around. This is the best medicine for Olivia's worries. What is there to feel stressed about, when the world looks like this? There's nothing they can't face together, no problem too big for them to overcome. As long as they love each other, as long as their baby is healthy, that is all that matters to her.

"Feeling better?" Fitz asks quietly. She turns in his arms and smiles at him, burying her hands deep beneath his jacket, around his lower back.

"I feel amazing. Thank you for bringing me here."

"My pleasure."

Their kisses are long and slow, savoring each other and this wonderful place. When they eventually trail off she hugs him as hard as she can, emotion fueling her muscles. "I can't wait to have your baby," she tells him, because that feeling is overwhelming her right now. She made a fucking _baby_ with this man! How lucky is she? How lucky is her child, having Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III as its daddy?

Fitz kneels in front of her and unzips her coat, pressing his lips to her belly through her sweater. Even if there were people around right now, she wouldn't have cared. "I am so excited to meet you, little one," he says solemnly. "I love you already, more than you'll ever know. Keep on growing nice and strong. Your mommy will look after you. She is already the best mommy in the world."

Olivia thinks she might cry again. Her hormones are crazy right now, making her anxious, sad, deliriously happy and then tearful all in the space of a few hours. She hopes they'll calm down a little soon, although from what Annie hinted at and what she's read, the rest of her pregnancy is likely to be a rollercoaster as well.

"You know, he or she is the size of a grape now," Fitz is continuing. "Our little grape."

She laughs, wiping away tears. "Little G."

"Little Grant. Or Pope, if you want." He stands again and draws her close.

"No… Grant is good."

He smiles and leans down, rubbing his nose against hers. "Thank you, Olivia."

She doesn't ask what for, just covers his mouth with hers, showing him how she feels instead. A little while later, when they're gasping for air, she thanks him too. He does ask the question. Her reply is instantaneous: "For being in London. For falling in love with me. For having sex with me on the most fertile day of my cycle and not wearing a condom."

His laughter echoes around them and she can't help but join in. "Such a romantic," he teases, taking hold of her hand again. "Ready to go, Shakespeare? I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today."

"Oh, poor Fitzy. Wait, though. I want to get a picture of us."

She takes several selfies of them, unable to believe how utterly smitten they both look, and then snaps some of the lake as well. "One more," Fitz says, taking her phone from her. He kisses her and captures the moment - she hates to admit it, but it's damn cute.

"I really wish I could just post this on Instagram," she sighs as they begin the hike back. She doesn't often put personal pictures up there; mainly it's Quinn uploading shots of her outfits when she attends events, mentioning the designers who dress her and certain brands she's affiliated with.

"You will be able to, one day soon."

"I still don't know if I'd put up a photo of us kissing."

"Who cares?"

And for the first time, she actually doesn't. When the time comes, she decides that she will share all kinds of sweet pictures of him, of them together, of their adorable baby. She knows that will make her happy and, at the end of the day, that is what's important.

They drive back to the nearest town, Stony Point, and Fitz buys them bagels which they eat on the banks of the Hudson River, strolling along. Olivia spots an ice cream shop she used to visit as a child and ends up getting three scoops because she can't decide on the best flavors. He laughs at her when she can't finish it - but doesn't complain when she offers it to him. They finally head back to the city in the late afternoon. She has a cocktail party to attend, a great networking event for her, and Fitz is meeting Henry for dinner.

"I've had the best day," she tells him when he's saying goodbye outside her front door. He doesn't seem able to stop kissing her. "Fitz... Fitz!"

"What?"

"Do I need to get the devil horns for you to wear?"

His grin is so handsome she almost drags him inside and straight to bed, despite the fact her hair and makeup team will be arriving soon.

"I'll put them on later tonight," he says seductively, making it a promise. "Then it'll be my turn to treat you."

Her whole body tremors. It's going to be a _very_ long evening apart.


	22. Isn't That The Best Secret?

**A/N: As always, thank you. I can't say it enough. I'm always blown away by your ongoing support. And to hear from new readers, too, is amazing.**

 **There's a lot going on here. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 22 - Isn't That The Best Secret (In The World)?**

Fitz manages to meet with Harrison on Tuesday afternoon. He works for a relatively small management and public relations company in Manhattan which has a warm, personalized feel to it. Olivia is their biggest client by far and Fitz can't help but smile as he admires the life-sized photographs of her which adorn the walls of their reception area. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the fact that this beautiful woman has chosen him to love, to share her life with.

Harrison welcomes him into his office exactly on time, with a friendly handshake and the offer of a coffee. "I've just made a fresh pot. Please, sit down."

"I'd love a cup, thank you."

He pours them one each and takes a seat behind his desk. "So, how's things?"

"Not bad," Fitz says, smiling. "How are you? How's Kelsey?"

"All good. We're moving in together next weekend, actually."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. Now, what can I do for you?"

Fitz takes a sip of his coffee and then sets it slowly back down, composing his thoughts. "I wanted to get some advice from you regarding how we might eventually reveal mine and Olivia's relationship to the public. She's so anxious about what might happen but she doesn't want to discuss it anymore. She's burying her head in the sand." He sighs, running his hand over his face and through his hair. "I hate seeing her like this. I need to know the facts, I need a plan. What are our options here?"

Harrison looks at him for a long moment before answering. "She's scared, Fitz."

"I know that."

"I'm sure you do. But I don't think you understand completely." He sits forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his desk, fingers interlaced. "She's a young black woman, making a huge name for herself in the world. Do you know how many emails we get every day, asking to book her for appearances, interviews, photoshoots? At least thirty. Some days more than fifty. Everything from Vanity Fair to the in-flight magazines of obscure Asian airlines. Liv only chooses a few because her work with the UN, with her charities, is most important to her.

"She really _cares_. She wants to make real change. And there are people out there who want her to fail, who are already waiting for her to crash and burn, simply because they don't like the color of her skin. These kinds of people don't believe she deserves any success, no matter her cause or how hard she tries, and they will _demonize_ her for falling in love with you, Fitz, because you are a white man. Not only that, but an older, rich, successful white man; one whose father was a three-time Republican Senator, for Christ's sake! The won't attack you because you're one of them, so they'll take out their hatred on Olivia instead. And I don't like saying this, but there are also black people out there who won't approve of her choosing you either. They'll think she somehow sold out. You are entering the minefield of racial politics that has plagued our country for centuries, and I don't envy you one bit.

"I'm sorry for the lecture, man. Those groups are minorities, but often very vocal ones. I have to admit, though - I'm not actually surprised that she wants to bury her head in the sand. Wouldn't you?"

Fitz's heart has become a lead weight in his chest. Not for the first time in his life, his unstoppable optimism has blinded him to the real issues going on. How could he have been so naïve? He can't even meet Harrison's eyes, this man who understands his girl far better than he does. "Shit. I feel like the most awful person in the world," he mutters, so angry at himself for failing her that he's shaking.

"Don't. How would you know all that?"

Fitz finally looks up. "I thought I had some idea, but clearly I was just skimming the surface. All I want to do is to protect her; to make her happy."

"You do, I can see that." Harrison smiles and relaxes back into his chair again. "You obviously care about her a lot and I have to thank you for that, as her friend. She'll need you when all this comes out."

"She'll have me."

"Good. So, what do you want to do?"

"I want to finalize my divorce and then, as soon as I'm free, Olivia can decide how we proceed, guided by you."

"How is your divorce going?"

He shrugs slightly. "I'm meeting my wife and our lawyers tomorrow to try and come to an arrangement about splitting our assets. We have a prenup but apparently some of the wording is a little ambiguous, so we have a few things to negotiate."

"Is she being difficult?"

"She might be. I'm not sure"

There's a pause. "Do you think she knows about Olivia?"

Fitz is taken aback. "No. How could she?"

"There was that photo of you two on her birthday night."

He frowns. "She did confront me about that, but she was worried about me and Kim and I managed to convince her it was nothing."

"Okay." Harrison takes a drink of his coffee and Fitz is grateful for the breather. He feels like a witness being cross-examined by a very smart, very fast-talking attorney. "So, once you're divorced, are you going to tell her about Olivia before we make it public knowledge?"

"I… hadn't thought about it," he admits.

"Well, you need to." Harrison gazes directly at him, his smile rueful. "The first thing the press are gonna do when we drop your relationship is run straight to your ex-wife and ask for her side of the story. What do you think she'll tell them?"

"I don't know."

"Not good enough. We need to make sure she says _nothing_. Not a single word. No comment from an ex is ever a good thing."

Fitz is silent. He hadn't even considered that. Harrison is clearly damn good at his job. He goes on: "Will she want to speak out? Were you a bad husband? Have you done anything to piss her off?"

"No!"

"Apart from fall in love with someone else. Someone younger, famous, undoubtedly more beautiful." They stare at each other. Fitz is annoyed but Harrison doesn't care. "There's nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned."

He can feel his pulse racing. This is turning out to be far more complicated than he'd ever dreamed. "What do you suggest I do?" he asks through gritted teeth. He feels like the situation is spinning out of his control - and that's without their baby added to the mix as well.

"We need to get your wife to sign a non-disclosure agreement, prohibiting her from making any remarks in public. You might have to pay her a significant amount."

He shakes his head. "She won't want money. She doesn't need it."

"What does she want?"

"I don't know."

"Everybody wants something."

He sits back in his chair, lets out a long breath and gives himself a minute to think. "Influence," he says eventually. "Power. She's a lawyer, almost at the top of her game, but she's always been ambitious. She's desperate to make partner."

Harrison considers this for a moment. "I'm not sure we can give that to her. I don't know the field very well, but I'll make some enquiries. There is another option."

"Which is?"

"We find dirt on her. It doesn't even have to be something huge because if we spin it right, if we can convince her it will destroy her career, she'll bite."

Fitz grimaces. "Is this really how this business works?"

"Oh yes," Harrison grins. "And I love it."

Fitz racks his brains for anything about Mellie which might be useful. She's stabbed a lot of people in the back over the years, but he doesn't really know any of the details and isn't sure how he'd find out. Her friends and family won't talk because they're all cut from the same cloth and unfailingly loyal. The only place where she's disliked is at work - but, as a senior associate, she's almost everybody's boss. It's not going to be easy to get anyone to speak ill of her. Unless…

"I might be able to find something. I'll need some time."

"Sure. We're on your schedule here, just let me know. In the meantime I can draw up a contract with a gagging clause, pass it by our lawyers. It will cost you, though."

"That's fine. Just please don't tell Olivia about any of this yet. It's a lot more complex than I thought it would be and she's already stressed out enough."

Harrison looks at him levelly. "I think she'd want to know what's going on. She always wants to be involved in every decision."

"With respect," Fitz counters, "My wife is _my_ problem. Not hers."

Harrison holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, whatever you think's best. Look, I have another meeting in five but we haven't even touched on the question you came in here with. In terms of revealing your relationship - I think it's manageable, as long as your wife is silenced. I would advise you wait a while after your divorce comes through; maybe even a couple of months, if you can manage that."

Fitz nods but he knows there's no way, not when her pregnancy begins to show.

"Then we plant a few small articles, some candid photos of you two getting cozy in public. We can get Olivia a TV interview, someone can ask her about the rumors and she'll blush, say that you're dating. You might want to pretend you've known each other longer which won't be hard, given your backgrounds. You were friends, you realized you were falling for each other etcetera. I personally think that most of the media outlets will be supportive because everyone loves a love story, and Liv is Little Miss Perfect. There will undoubtedly be some backlash from those groups I mentioned earlier, but I think it'll be small. We'll shield her from it as best we can but I'm sure she'll still worry about it. That's who she is. She wants to please everyone, and that's just not possible in this world."

It sounds like a great plan - flawless, even - except for the huge missing piece. Fitz has realized it was stupid to come here expecting to solve all their problems while keeping her pregnancy hidden from this professional, this PR expert. Still, his time hasn't been completely wasted - far from it, in fact.

"I really appreciate you meeting with me," he says, standing and reaching out for a handshake. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"I'm here for you both, man. She's not just a client, she's become a really close friend. It's so good to see her happy at last."

They smile genuinely at one another. "Good luck with your move next weekend."

"Thanks. Hopefully we can all hang out again soon. That was a great night."

"It was. I'll speak to Liv later and we'll let you know."

"Awesome. See you, Fitz."

"See you."

Outside the office, Fitz takes his phone from his pocket and texts the only lawyer he trusts: Abigail Whelan.

 _I have a favor to ask. Can you call me when you're free?_

* * *

Mellie is a nightmare.

She and her lawyer, a formidable woman by the name of Clarissa Ma, have gone through their prenuptial agreement with a fine toothcomb and picked out at least ten points of contention. Fitz already has a headache by the third one.

"The Georgiana," Clarissa says forcefully, glaring at him across the table. She really hates men, he's decided. There's no other reason for her to behave so abhorrently towards him. She proceeds to read out the clause which details that his grandfather's inheritance will remain in his possession after the divorce. "There is no specific mention of the yacht in this agreement, and my client has indicated she would like it sold and the profits divided."

Fitz gapes at Mellie, who looks away. "What the _fuck_? You hate sailing. You've never even been on her!"

Jemima puts her hand on his arm, silencing him. "That is ridiculous," she says to her colleague across the table. "The wording is crystal clear. The Georgiana belonged to Fitzgerald Thomas Grant I and now, as per his written will, it is the property of my client."

Clarissa turns to Mellie who shrugs, her gaze still averted. "It's fine. He can keep it."

Her lawyer seems to take this as a personal loss and redoubles her efforts with the next items on the list. Fitz is beginning to think all this is Clarissa Ma's doing; that perhaps Mellie isn't as hell-bent on destroying him as she seems. By the end of the meeting, he's offered her their house, one of his rental properties in the city and a significant portion of his investments. It's far more than he'd intended to give but he just can't face another meeting with her awful lawyer.

"I'll have to think about it," Mellie says, having regained some of her composure; that fierceness which he's sure wins her a lot of cases.

He glares at her. "Can I have a word with you? Alone."

"Dr Grant, I don't advise-"

"It's fine." He brushes off his lawyer. "We'll only be a minute."

Reluctantly, the two other women leave the room.

"Who _is_ she?" he says to Mellie as soon as they've gone.

She lifts her chin defiantly. "She's the best."

"The best at what, castrating men?"

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips for the briefest moment, before her iron mask falls back into place. "The best at winning."

"But why do you want to do it like this?" he asks, and it sounds like he's pleading but he doesn't care. "That was horrible. Why do we have to fight over all our stuff? Don't you already have everything you need?"

She looks straight into his eyes for the longest moment, like she's searching for something beneath the surface. It's unnerving - but not as much as when she finally asks: "Who's Olivia?"

 _What?_

"What?" he repeats out loud, his heart thundering against his ribs. He hopes she can't hear it, can't see his sudden panic. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She's still staring at him and he can feel himself flushing. How the fuck does she know? Or is it just a guess, an intuition? Is she using her professional skills to force him to admit to something she's not even sure he's guilty of?

He holds his ground, thinking of anything other than Olivia to try and calm himself. After another minute of his wife's appraisal, which feels like a lifetime, she finally backs down. He thinks he's passed her test - for now. "I told you before, Fitz. You will _not_ humiliate me."

"I don't want to." Will she believe him? Because it's the truth. "I just want to move on. Agree to the terms, Mel. Let's get this over with."

"I'll… consider it." She picks up her purse and strides across to the door.

"I hate your lawyer," he says bitterly, just before she opens it.

She turns back and smirks at him. "So do I."

* * *

He's so angry when he gets home that evening that he can't even open a beer, his hands are shaking so much.

"She knows!" he rants to Henry, who comes into the kitchen to help him. "I don't know how, but she knows about Olivia."

"I assume we're talking about Mellie?"

"Who else?"

"Come and sit down, man. Tell me exactly what happened."

Fitz recounts the story almost word for word, pausing only to take big swigs of his drink. It's not strong enough. Why didn't he go straight for whiskey instead?

"Look, all she has is a name," Henry reasons. "You said it yourself: maybe she was just testing her suspicions. If she knew everything, why wouldn't she have just come out with it?"

"I don't know. Fuck. I just want her to leave us alone, to get out of my life!"

"Of course you do." Henry pats his shoulder, sympathizing. "Is there anywhere she might have gotten the name Olivia from? Have you said it in front of her, maybe on the phone?"

Fitz leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "I guess she could have heard me say it last week, when I served the papers to her. I'm not sure." He gazes at his friend again. "Then there's that photograph of me and Olivia on her birthday, but we're not even touching. I've got my arm around Kim, one of her friend's wives."

Henry raises his eyebrows.

"She was cold," Fitz says sourly, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Just checking."

"Well, I don't appreciate it right now." He sighs and rubs his face vigorously with his hands. "Sorry. That was dickish of me."

Henry laughs. "It was. But I'll be the bigger man and forgive you."

"You're too kind."

"I know."

There's a comfortable pause. Fitz is surprised to find his bottle is almost empty already.

"I think it was a test," Henry says at length, clearly choosing his words carefully so as not to provoke another outburst. "She heard the name, maybe she connected it to the photo, and she tried to catch you out. It sounds like you held your ground, though."

"Mm. You're probably right. But I don't understand what difference it makes. So what if I'm dating someone?"

His friend looks at him like he's never seen him before. "' _So what?_ ' Do you not understand _anything_ about women?"

Fitz frowns. "Obviously not. Please, enlighten me."

"You were together twelve years. That's a hell of a long time. Then one day, quite possibly out of the blue as far as she's concerned, you decide you don't want her anymore. That you don't love her. And in the space of two months, you've found someone else. Moved on. You're _happy_. Leaving her behind is just so easy for you, almost like she never mattered at all. How do you think that makes her feel?"

That is a question Fitz has been avoiding for months now. "I don't want to talk about this," he groans, standing up and heading to the fridge for another beer.

"Well, I think it's exactly what's fueling her unreasonable behavior. You haven't technically betrayed her, as you'd already left her, but I'm sure that's how she sees it."

"But she slept with someone else too!"

"Is it an ongoing thing?"

"I don't think so. Don't ask me why - I don't have any proof either way - but I just get the impression she's alone."

"Well, a one night stand is not the same as falling for someone, starting a brand new relationship. And, buddy, this is Olivia Pope we're talking about. She's not exactly awful to look at, or old, or boring. She's a fucking superstar. I'm sure Mellie is worried she's being exchanged for a younger model, and she's terrified of how embarrassing that will be for her when all her friends and colleagues find out. She doesn't want to be humiliated, as she put it."

Fitz slumps back into his chair, taking a long sip from his second bottle. As much as he hates to admit it, he's certain Henry is right. "Why delay our divorce though? She can't just put me off forever. She'll have to sign eventually."

"I guess she's buying time, trying to figure out whether you _are_ dating someone or you're not. Then she'll be able to work out how she feels about it; how much she wants to hurt you."

That sounds just like Mellie. A woman scorned, indeed.

"How did you get so smart when it comes to the opposite sex?" Fitz asks enviously.

"I have three sisters, one ex-wife _and_ I'm a doctor - studying people is part of my job."

"You're a pediatric anesthesiologist."

"Parents are the most complicated humans out there. Trust me."

That word - parents - drags Fitz's mind back to Olivia, to the tiny, innocent life growing inside of her. He promised he'd sort this mess out, that he'd make himself free to be with his family, and what has he achieved so far? He's raised his wife's suspicions so much that she won't agree to divorce him. He's so mad with himself, with the whole situation, that he knows there's no way he can see Olivia tonight. The previous evening was bad enough: he was late anyway because of meetings and, when he did turn up at her door, he felt so awful for keeping his conversation with Harrison a secret that he barely spoke to her, instead whisking her off to the bedroom and burying his shame between her glorious thighs.

"What are you gonna do now?" Henry's asking, drawing him reluctantly back to the present. "Appeal to her better nature? It might work. I think there's still a little bit of soul left in there somewhere."

"I tried that today." He downs the remainder of his beer, feeling thoroughly miserable and not even remotely drunk yet. "The trouble is, her lawyer is corrupting her, trying to squeeze me dry. Maybe she thinks I'll confess to anything if I'm under enough pressure. Maybe she is genuinely so pissed at me that she wants to take everything, to ruin my life, for all the reasons you mentioned. You know," he goes on, smiling sardonically, "If she wasn't being such a bitch we could have worked together, made a story to sell that wouldn't embarrass her. I would have done it if she'd just asked. But now… there's no way.

"So I guess either I hold out, hoping she doesn't discover our relationship and eventually just caves in and signs; or, my other option comes to fruition."

"And that is?"

He pulls out his phone and checks his messages, but there's still no update from Abby after their conversation the previous evening. He shouldn't be surprised - she's barely had any time to do what he's asked - but things have become direr now. His relationship with Olivia is starting to suffer and he's getting desperate.

"Dirt."

* * *

Olivia can sense there's something wrong with him. He's been distant for the last few days, and he's barely paying attention now as she tells him she's booked her first appointment with an obstetrician and would he like to come along?

"Fitz!"

"What?"

He looks up at her, blinking. They're sat together on her sofa late on Thursday evening and he's been absentmindedly drawing circles on her bare abdomen. It's endearing, but she wants to have an actual conversation with him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

She puts her palm on his cheek, stroking her thumb over his day-old stubble. He looks exhausted. "Why won't you tell me what's up? I'm worried about you."

They've barely talked since the start of the week. They didn't see each other last night and on Tuesday, he came over late and took her straight to bed. He leans over and kisses her now, drawing her onto his lap. His lips wander down her neck, making her shiver, but after a moment she stops him, lifting his chin again. He will not distract her with sex this time.

"Talk to me, Fitzy. Please."

He gazes into her eyes, looking torn. She can feel him trembling and now she's really concerned. She's never seen him like this before. There must be something in her expression which portrays her terror because suddenly he lets his head fall back against the cushion, sighing from deep in his chest. "I don't know where to start," he confesses.

"From the beginning?"

"Okay."

He moves her off him again and turns towards her. He tries and fails to smile, which doesn't reassure her at all.

"I met with Harrison on Tuesday. We talked about you. About us."

"You… what?" She's so shocked, she doesn't know how that news makes her feel.

"I wanted to know how we might handle coming out to the public, because I know it's worrying you so much. I got a few ideas, although I didn't tell him about the baby and that will make it all much more difficult. But he also explained to me how this will really affect you - a successful black woman, dating a white man. I knew you had barriers to face, Liv, but I didn't know how high they were. You always seem to handle everything so well. You never seem to struggle."

Her eyes are suddenly filled with tears. He's so earnest, she almost can't stand it.

"I felt like such a failure, listening to Harrison talk," Fitz goes on steadily. "I felt like I didn't understand you, didn't understand the sacrifices you're making for me."

"I'm not," she whispers. "They're not sacrifices. I love you."

When he smiles this time, it's genuine. "I know you do. But I've been struggling with the fact that I still have a lot to learn: about you; about your heritage. I stroll through life thinking everything is easy and it's not. I'm just lucky. Privileged."

"Fitz, I don't care." She takes his hands, holds on tight. "You don't act privileged at all. You've spent your life using your position to give back to others and I admire you so much for that. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you," she adds softly, bringing her face closer to his.

Now they both smile. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs.

"Well, you've got me. We're kind of bound together forever, don't you think?"

She glances down at her tummy and he chuckles. "We are."

Olivia presses her lips to his once, twice; runs her fingers lovingly through his curls. "Thank you for what you said. No one I've dated has ever tried to understand how society treats women like me. You are so special, Fitz."

"You should thank Harrison," he says, but he kisses her again anyway.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

He looks at her for a long moment. "No," he says, and for the first time since they met she knows he's lying to her. Her good mood evaporates.

"You promised to always be honest with me."

She hates herself for playing that card but it _hurts_. They've always been completely open with one another. What the hell is going on?

He looks guilty; gazes away. "I don't want to stress you out."

"Not telling me is going to stress me out more!"

"It's just about the divorce. It's nothing. I'm handling it."

"Fitz!"

She cannot believe he won't explain himself. She feels her emotions welling up in her chest, stinging her eyes. He can't keep secrets from her - that's how relationships get ruined.

"What did you say to me once?" she asks him, willing herself not to cry. "'I want all of you, even the pieces you don't like.' It works both ways."

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting!" Suddenly she's on her feet, frustrated tears flowing down her cheeks which she angrily rubs away. "I need a partner who tells me the truth, who shares everything with me!"

"Baby. Don't do this."

He's standing too, folding her into his arms even as she tries to push him away. This kind of betrayal is so reminiscent of her relationship with Edison, she can't bear it.

"Get off me!"

"Liv, stop it. Olivia!" His voice is so loud, so sharp, that she instantly stills. "Look, I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just, please don't fight me."

He looks so upset, it almost breaks her heart. _He's not Edison_ , she tells herself sternly. _Don't be such an idiot._

He passes her a tissue. They sit down again; he holds her hands and doesn't let go.

"I said my meeting with my wife went okay... It didn't."

Olivia listens as he explains the whole story, including everything Harrison said about getting Mellie to sign a gagging clause, his plan to use Abby to dig up dirt on her and Henry's assessment of her motives.

"I was so angry with her last night," he finishes, "I didn't want to see you. Or rather, I didn't want you to see me. I'm so sorry. I should have just been honest from the beginning."

But Olivia understands perfectly why he wanted to shield her from all that information. She feels like she's learned more about his ex-wife than she ever wanted to know; as if somehow she's become real now, a physical presence in their lives and not just a problem for him to deal with.

"Where's my phone?"

"What?" He actually laughs, stunned. Clearly not the reaction he was expecting.

"Can you pass me it please?" She points to the arm of the sofa behind him. "I need to text Abby, tell her to hurry the fuck up."

Fitz watches her carefully, trying to figure her out. "Are you okay?"

Once she's finished her message she looks up at him, deadly serious. "We need that woman out of your life. I want you for _me_ , for our baby."

"I want that too. So much."

"So why are you trying to fix this by yourself? Two heads are better than one, aren't they?"

His expression softens and he reaches for her, pulling her into his embrace. "Oh Livvie. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

He buries his face in her hair and she lets him hold her, feeling her breathing slowly start to settle as the familiarity of his body, his scent begins to soothe her. She can't stay mad at him for long. She just loves him too much.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she says quietly, squeezing him so tightly she thinks she might break him. "For a moment then, I actually thought of Edison."

"Oh god," he groans. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It's different. You were trying to protect me, I get that - and I forgive you."

They break apart just enough to gaze at each other. "I love you," he says solemnly. "I don't ever want to hurt you."

She smiles, kissing him. "I know. I'm fine. _We're_ fine. But we're a team, remember? We're in this together."

"We're in this together," he confirms. His blue eyes are alive again now; full of love. "And Livvie?"

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't miss your OB appointment for the world."

* * *

They spend the next couple of days brainstorming together, trying to find solutions to their ever-growing list of problems. As usual, Olivia was right: two heads are definitely better than one. They come up with a few ideas, running them past Harrison, getting the okay.

The first is designed to make the news of their baby a little less scandalous when it finally hits the headlines. They both know they can't disguise the fact that they conceived when he was still married, but they've decided that a little ambiguity about the dates can only be a good thing. And so, when Olivia attends an exclusive magazine launch on Saturday night - an event overflowing with celebrities, fashionistas and, therefore, a vast cohort of media - the dress she has chosen to wear is so tight across her flat abdomen that no one will ever look back at pictures of her and suspect she might already be ten weeks pregnant.

The second part of their plan is to distract Mellie's attention away from the notion that they are a couple, and it's the part Fitz is dreading. Olivia is going to be photographed with a well-known male actor and Harrison, who managed to set all this up in the space of just twenty-four hours, will make sure it's publicized in such a way that suggests a possible romance between the two of them: a 'party-goer' who will comment that they looked to be having a good time together. That will be the end of it; so subtle it's barely even noticed by most outlets. She won't see him again, they won't drag it out. But it might just be enough to get his wife's attention and - most importantly - her signature on their divorce papers.

"I hate the idea of you with another guy," Fitz had said sullenly as he left her apartment late on Saturday afternoon. She'd reached for him; kissed him so sweetly, and for so long, that she left him breathless.

"Just remember," she'd murmured, so close their noses were almost touching, "I'm carrying your baby. Isn't that the best secret in the world?"

He hadn't uttered another word of protest after that.

Now he's lying alone on Henry's couch, watching a live stream of the event on the magazine's website. Star after star walks the bright pink carpet, pausing for interviews and photographs. There's Miranda Kerr, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Victoria Beckham; countless other famous models, designers, actors - the vast majority of them white. There really is such bias, such racism in popular culture. After his chat with Harrison, Fitz has been even more aware of it than he was before - and he's even prouder of Olivia for fighting her way in, for changing the game.

He sips his scotch, starting to get a little bored with the endless stream of glamorous people. Many of them are too young for him to even recognize and he realizes, with a reluctant smile, that he's getting old. But then, suddenly, his girl is right there and he feels a surge of adrenaline, making his heart rate spike. He sits up, bringing his laptop screen closer to his face so he can really appreciate her in all her glory. She is just stunning: her long-sleeved, silver dress looks like it's been superglued on, highlighting every flawless curve. The skirt is so short that most of her slender legs are on show and her skin glows as the cameras flash repeatedly. When she turns, revealing her bare back, desire shoots through his body, pooling in his groin. She knows what it does to him when she wears something backless; how it invokes such vivid, lustful memories of the night they met.

The interviewer beckons her over, commenting on her outfit, on how amazing she looks. They talk about the designer, about the magazine launch. Olivia says she's proud to be supporting the venture because, alongside fashion and beauty, it will feature editorials focusing on real issues faced by women all around the globe. He tunes out after that, though, because her right hand has come to rest on her belly. It's only fleeting, just a few seconds before she realizes and drops it again, but suddenly his emotions are overwhelming him. This divine creature, absolutely perfect in every way, is _his_. She's funny, charming, intelligent, beautiful; she's the mother of his child, the woman he's going to marry one day, the one person he will spend his whole life beside.

When he lets himself take a step back and think about everything that has happened over the last two months, it's just _crazy_. His entire universe has shifted and realigned with her at its center; her and their tiny little creation, their future. He wants to see her walk red carpets with her baby bump on display; wants to give her the freedom to stand in front of a camera and share her joy with the world. He wants it so badly it makes him _ache._ He hasn't really thought how their pregnancy announcement might eventually play out, but it's going to take a lot of restraint to stop him from just running out onto the street and shouting it at the top of his voice.

As soon as Olivia's interview is over, he turns off his computer. He won't risk seeing her posing with this actor, despite knowing it's completely and utterly harmless, because he's sure it'll put him in a bad mood. _He_ should be there, with her. If he could, he'd pull her into a dark corner and kiss her so softly her knees would start to give way beneath her; he'd stand behind her on the dancefloor as their hips swayed to a slow beat, his breath caressing her neck, his hand splayed possessively on her abdomen. He's certainly discovered his dominant side since meeting her: he loves to make her weak for him, to take away her control and leave her pleading for more.

And then, in the spirit of dominance, an idea comes to him.

He picks up his phone, does a quick internet search and then makes a call. Five minutes and a few thousand dollars later, he texts Olivia.

 _Thomas Attaway is booked into the Tiffany Suite at the St Regis hotel tonight. He'll be waiting for you, whenever you're ready xx_

* * *

They destroy the suite.

Maybe it's the rough week they've had, or her tiny dress, or her hormones. Maybe it's the mood he's in, all ferocious kisses and forceful hands, or that he's a little drunk in that sexy, smoldering way which makes everything inside of her tighten so deliciously.

Maybe this is normal two months into a relationship. Maybe this is just how they love each other. Whatever the reason, he takes possession of her. _Owns_ her. And she lets him, because he's Fitz and she's infatuated and they are just unstoppable when they're together like this.

Surveying the scene the next morning, dressed only in her underwear and his shirt while she sips a cup of ginger tea, Olivia can't help but be impressed at the level of devastation they created. In the living area, the two couches are askew, their cushions scattered all over. The vase on the coffee table is on its side, its water long-since soaked into the plush rug beneath. Her designer dress is crumpled by the window, her heels somehow on opposite sides of the room.

She can count her orgasms like lasting impressions, lingering in the quiet air. Two here, in quick succession: his mouth and then, while she was still trembling, several quick, powerful thrusts of his cock as he lay over her on the floor. In the dining area there's a third, sometime later. The chairs are standing haphazardly, one tipped onto its side, betraying Fitz's desperation to find a surface for her to sit on, to welcome him in between her legs. That was just after their midnight feast: there's melted ice cream on the tabletop; empty tubs, spoons licked clean. There was ice cream on her skin, too, but that evidence is long gone now. Someone saw to it with his tongue.

She wanders into the bathroom, still carpeted in the towels they threw down because having sex in the shower and accidentally pushing open the door creates a hell of a lot of mess in a very short amount of time. Her fourth climax hovers there, reflected a hundred times in the glass, the sparkling white tiles, the spotlights. It seems to smile at her. _We had a good time here, remember?_

Her body shivers. _Of course_.

The only place they didn't fuck last night was in their bed. They might have - certainly, she still wanted him; she _always_ wants him - but the moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep. And now she watches Fitz as he dreams and she's drawn towards him by something invisible, something much stronger than her willpower and her desire to be kind and let him rest. She needs to be in his arms; needs to breathe him in because the oxygen over here, where he's not, is just nowhere near as sweet.

It's one of the softest mattresses she's ever slept on, as light as a cloud, and his heat envelops her as soon as she slips beneath the covers. He doesn't stir at first - he's a deep sleeper, unlike her. She cuddles into him, pressing her front to his, her face into his neck, entwining their legs. He smells warm, masculine, heady. She kisses him in this intimate place, on his soft skin where his pulse beats slow and steady. His arms move around her, recognizing her as a piece of him. Known. Belonging. A perfect fit.

They doze together in this position for a while. Olivia is marveling at how much she loves him, at how much he's changed her. She wonders how she failed to notice that her life felt empty without him. How did she sleep alone at night? How did she spend Sunday mornings before him, and this? This cherished tranquility. This peace he brings to her mind, to her soul.

She thinks about how, before Fitz, if someone had told her she was going to become a mother next year she would have been terrified; and how, with him, she's not. The only thing she's afraid of, deep down inside, is losing their baby. Still fourteen days to go until the relative safety of 'twelve weeks', but even then, nothing's certain. She read somewhere that almost a quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage - which means, of course, that three quarters don't. Statistically, she can be three times as excited as she is scared, and she'll probably be okay.

In fact, she thinks she will. She hasn't had a single bad feeling, and her gut is usually pretty good at forewarning her. In the same way she knows she and Fitz are meant to be, she believes in her body; in the impossible biological magic which is underway every minute of every day, building a person from a set of instructions which are nothing more than sequences of proteins. It is truly miraculous that the human race survives; that the entire animal kingdom has evolved from atoms, writing their own destiny.

"Morning."

Fitz's deep, scratchy voice fills her with happiness as he tightens his grip on her. He's awake: hers again, for the day.

"Morning." She kisses his throat, his jaw. He's holding her so close she can't move, can't see his face yet. "I missed you."

"Mm. Missed you t- too." A yawn overcomes him; he lets go of her to stretch out, his toes almost reaching the end of the bed. When he's recovered, he finally turns back and looks at her with those stunning blue eyes, with an adoring smile as he pulls her against him once more. "Hi."

"Hi."

She's sure her smile is a perfect replica of his.

"Were you asleep just now?" he asks, rubbing his nose against hers as his hands wander, exploring the curves of her spine, her ass. He still wants her, too. That is always implicit.

"No. Just thinking."

"About?"

Conversation is difficult when his fingertips are outlining her panties; lightly but deliberately brushing over her clit.

"DNA. Evolution."

A frown creases his forehead. "What?"

He kisses her before she can answer, then he rolls her over so he's spooning her. "I can give you some more of my DNA right now, if you'd like."

She laughs loudly - he is so outrageous sometimes - but when he flexes his hips, pushing his erection into her lower back, desire rushes through her. The ginger tea has already done its trick and settled her stomach; there's nothing else between them now but their underwear.

"God this shirt is sexy on you," he murmurs, biting on her earlobe as his fingernails caress her sensitive nipples through the cotton. Combined with his breath on the side of her neck, she just _melts_ into him.

It's only minutes later, when he's inside her and filling her so incredibly, that she realizes this is the very same position they conceived in. She brings his palm to her belly, bare now where they've rid her of her clothes, and turns her face to his as best she can. "Fitz," she starts to say, her voice half-broken because the way he's moving is doing all sorts of wonderful things to her - but it doesn't matter that she can't speak because, as always, they're on exactly the same page.

"I know," he replies with a truly gorgeous smile, kissing the corner of her mouth. He stills and gazes into her eyes for the longest moment. "I love you, Olivia."

Suddenly she feels like she's about to cry. He starts to thrust gently in and out of her again - it's instinctive, she knows - and kisses her, his hand squeezing hers so tightly on her abdomen. Eventually she has to break away, to cry out, to give in. She lets him master her body one final time in this suite; lets him touch her, bite her, growl all sorts of obscenities into her ear until she's a quivering, emotional, orgasmic mess.

She wipes away tears as they breathe heavily together, still joined. Fitz cuddles her closer; kisses her warm skin a thousand times.

"You okay?" he asks gently, at length.

"Mm hmm. I'm good." She sniffs, willing herself to stay in control. "London seems like years ago, doesn't it?"

"The best years of my life."

She laughs softly and draws his arms around her waist even more tightly. "Mine too. That was where this all began…"

She runs her fingers over her navel, longing to feel a change there. One day soon. _Come on, little one. Grow big and strong for your momma._

"London is a nice name, don't you think? London Grant."

It takes a moment for her brain to process his words. When she realizes what he's said she turns to look at him, horrified, and finds that he's already grinning. "I'm _joking_."

"Oh, thank god. Don't do that to me again, Fitzy."

"Why not?" he asks cutely as she relaxes again, relishing her role as little spoon.

"We are not giving our child a ridiculous name."

"But _I_ have a ridiculous name."

She smiles fondly, even though he can't see her. "You don't. I like Fitzgerald. It's traditional."

"Mm. Well, I think three generations are probably enough."

"Really? I assumed you'd want to continue the name, if we have a boy."

"No." He presses his lips to her shoulder, his hands caressing her belly. "I like talking about this, though. I love imagining the future: how you'll look with a little bump-"

"-And then a bigger one."

"Yes. I think we'll be using this position a lot over the next seven months."

"Assuming you still want to have sex with me then."

He finally pulls out of her; rolls her onto her back to look at him. "You need to stop making assumptions, Livvie," he says sternly. "I hate when you do that. You can't control the way I feel about you."

But his face softens as he kisses her mouth, her chest; moves down the bed, pushing her legs apart so he can lie between them.

"Don't," she says, resisting him. "There'll be a wet patch on the sheets."

"Not my sheets," he retorts with his most charming smile. "I don't care."

She relents, opening her hips, letting him settle there with his cheek resting on her abdomen. "Can we spend every Sunday like this?" she wonders aloud, playing with his curls. There's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be.

"I hope so," he says softly in response, his eyes closed, his expression so peaceful. "Although it might start to get expensive after a few weeks."

Olivia shakes her head, trying not to laugh. "Not _here_. It's not the suite I want. Just you. Us… All three of us."

"I know." He gazes up at her, all ruffled and handsome and _hers_. It makes her heart dance against her ribs.

"I love you," she whispers.

He crawls upwards, sliding his arms beneath her, lifting her body into his as he captures her mouth in a rapturous kiss. Once he's stolen her breath away, he trails his lips to that spot on her neck which always guarantees her surrender. The prospect of her sixth orgasm shimmers in the air, just beyond his shoulder.

She closes her eyes again and lets it take hold.

* * *

Henry answers the door when she arrives at his house the following Friday evening. She's come straight from work with a change of clothes. Since she and Fitz can't go out together at the moment - not while there's a chance his wife might be watching - he's invited her for dinner, but she was supposed to get here over an hour ago.

"He's in the shower," Henry says after he's kissed her on both cheeks. "Can I get you a drink while you wait?"

"No thank you," she replies, out of breath. She hates being late, especially when someone is making a special effort for her. It's just been one of those days: absolutely non-stop from the moment she woke up. "I think I'll just… join him."

She tries not to blush as she sidesteps Henry and heads for the stairs, which is hard when she knows he's smirking at her. He has a very childish sense of humor, but it's one of the reasons she likes him so much. He's fun to be around; he makes her laugh all the time. He's also an excellent conversationalist, very generous and - most importantly of all - a great friend to Fitz.

She finds her man in the shower, as promised. She silently strips off her clothes, ties up her hair and then steps into the spray with him. The first he knows of her presence is when she slides her hands around his waist from behind, making him jump.

"Jesus," he exclaims. He looks at her over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you."

"Who did you think it would be?" she asks indignantly, but she's knows he's just playing.

His expression is deadly serious as he turns around. "Sometimes Henry joins me in here. Male bonding, you know?"

When he smiles so mischievously and leans down to kiss her, his hands settling in the small of her back, drawing her close, she is utterly powerless to resist him. "Hi, beautiful."

"Hi," she breathes, running her hands over his warm, soapy skin, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's fine. I already told you when you called… _twice_."

She must look suitably chastised because he laughs and kisses her some more.

"Mm," she sighs when he eventually lets her go. "Do we have time for shower sex?"

"Not really. Unless you're happy to eat dinner burnt."

"I might be."

"Well, I'm not." He passes her the bottle of shower gel she left here weeks ago. "There's no rush. You're not that late. We still have time this evening."

"I guess."

She steps beneath the spray momentarily and then begins to wash, starting with her arms, her chest, her abdomen…

"Livvie!"

She looks at him, startled. He's frozen, shampoo in his hair, staring at her hands. His eyes slowly rise to meet hers and she's half expecting them to be full of fear, because it sounds like something awful has just happened - but they're not. They're wide with excitement.

"You're showing! Look."

Her heart surges in her chest. She glances down, hastily wiping away the foam, and sure enough - her body has finally changed.

"Oh my god!"

Their gazes lock together again, shining with wonder; their joy bursts out of them as laughter. Olivia runs out of the shower, dripping wet. She needs to see this in the mirror, to examine herself from all angles - to make herself believe it's real. The glass in the bathroom is fogged up so she rushes into the bedroom instead, not caring that the door to the hallway is open and Henry might easily walk past.

She stands in front of the wardrobes and looks hard at the woman staring back. Petite, curvy… _pregnant_. A mother-to-be. She turns sideways and it's more visible now: a very slight rise of her belly, just above her pelvis. She doubts anyone else would notice it, even if she stood naked in front of them. But to her, to Fitz, it's _everything_.

He's behind her now, a towel around his waist, his hair still full of bubbles. Their eyes say a hundred things they couldn't aloud. She spins around and throws herself into his arms, squeezing him so tightly, her muscles made stronger by all the love coursing through her veins. She's been waiting for this moment for so long and now it's here, it's really here, and it's just… overwhelming.

She has to let him go after only a few seconds though, to stare at herself some more. How could she not have noticed until now? Did she wake up like this? She's not sure. Her day has been such a blur, she's barely had time to stop, to be mindful of her own body.

"This is… amazing," Fitz is saying, kneeling beside her and just taking her in.

Olivia runs her hand back and forth over her skin, mapping her new contours, while he watches with fascination. Then he kisses her hip; turns her and kisses her tiny baby bump, too. She lifts his chin. The smile they share is painfully wide. She is so extraordinarily in love with this man, she doesn't know how to contain it.

She starts by bending down, pressing her mouth to his. After a few beats where they simply savor one another, he deepens the kiss; pulls her down onto the floor with him. With some maneuvering she ends up sitting between his legs, her knees bent over his left thigh so he's cradling her. He wraps his towel around them both and kisses her again, nuzzles her neck; murmurs so many sweet things in her ear as his thumb lovingly strokes her belly. It seems he can't contain his love for her, either.

Henry finds them like this, not long later. His voice startles them; they're so wrapped up in each other, they didn't hear him climbing the stairs.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

His green eyes take in the scene before him, clearly bemused. Their position, their state of undress, the fact Fitz is obviously mid-shower - it must look pretty strange.

"Just… having a moment," Fitz answers with a smile, a shrug; cuddling her into his chest so she can hide her reddening cheeks. She's so grateful he's so relaxed, so cool in situations like these.

"Right."

Olivia can't look at their intruder - it's too embarrassing.

"Well," he continues, "I just came to say the oven timer has gone off. Do you want me to do anything while you two… finish up here?"

"I'll be right there," Fitz says easily. "Thanks."

"…No problem."

"Oh my _god_ ," she groans as soon as they're alone again, the door firmly closed this time. "I can't believe he walked in on us like this!"

"Baby, it's Henry. He doesn't care. He was desperately trying not to laugh at us, actually." He kisses her lightly, gazing deep into her eyes. "I wouldn't change this for the world."

"Me neither," she admits, hugging him tightly. She wouldn't change this embrace; these last five minutes; the awestruck look on his face when he first noticed. It's an image which will stay with her forever.

"I need to go," he says reluctantly, a minute later. "Dinner will start to burn."

"Okay."

She stands and holds out her hand to help him to his feet. His eyes roam over her once again and he pauses, seemingly lost in thought.

"Fitz?"

"Sorry." He blinks; smiles at her. "Do you ever have those moments where you just can't believe this is real life? I can't believe you're actually having my baby. I can see it with my own eyes, and I can't believe it."

"All the time," Olivia confirms, full of affection. "Every day. Even now, it feels like a dream."

"A good one?"

"The best."

She steps into his arms, pressing herself against him. How long until they no longer fit together like this?

"Fitz!" Henry's voice reaches them from downstairs. "Something is smoking!"

"Shit."

He hurriedly leads her back into the bathroom with an apologetic smile; rinses his hair as fast as he can before he leaves her beneath the hot water to go and save his cooking. Olivia doesn't mind at all. She stays there for ages just touching her little bump, talking to her baby. She doesn't think anything in her life has ever made her as happy as this tiny change in her body. By the time Fitz comes back for her, already dressed and ready to serve dinner, she's crying.

"They're good tears," she sniffs as he switches off the water and wraps her up in a fluffy white towel. "I promise."

"I know." He kisses her forehead, her cheeks. "You're so sweet."

"I'm a wreck."

"But a beautiful one. Come on, let me take care of you. Both of you."

"Thank you... Daddy."

The word leaves her mouth before she's really thought about it, and immediately she wonders if it sounds weird. But, a split second later, the biggest grin takes over his face and she knows it's okay.

"I love you, Mommy."

Olivia and Fitz. Mommy and Daddy.

It's a whole new _world_.

* * *

Abby calls after dinner, when they're relaxing on the sofa. Henry has gone out for the evening with a few colleagues, leaving them alone in the house. It's cold outside and the fire is lit, filling the living room with a warm glow. Olivia is almost asleep against Fitz's shoulder, lulled by the excellent meal and the beat of his heart.

"Who is it?" she asks as he passes her phone.

"Abby."

"Mm. Hey, Abs."

"Hey. So, I have some news. About Fitz's… predicament."

Instantly, she's awake. They've been waiting over a week to hear from her; all they've had is the occasional question and then brief updates saying she's still working on it.

"Ok. I'm putting you on speaker."

"Hi, Abby."

"Hey. I think I might have found it. The dirt on your wife."

Fitz meets her gaze, stunned. It was always a longshot. Could it really be about to pay off? Might all this trouble soon be over? "Wow," he breathes, suddenly tense. "Thank you. What is it?"

"Well, you asked me to find out if any of the junior staff at her firm have any complaints against her, anything substantial you could use."

"…And?"

"I found something better. The guy she slept with."

He exhales slowly, clearly taken aback. Olivia feels her pulse start to race. _"How?"_

"Well, I didn't think I knew anyone who works for her, but I went back to my graduating class and spent a while on LinkedIn. Turns out, one of the men in my year is actually a paralegal there. We weren't friends before but, after a few beers last weekend, we are now. His name is Tom."

"Is he the guy?" Fitz asks incredulously. He's on the edge of his seat.

"No. He's not. But now we're buddies, I've been asking him all sorts of questions. It turns out, the Saturday your wife supposedly slept with this colleague, most of the staff were in all day. There was a company audit the following week and they all got paid overtime to work - the senior associates included."

"So she spent the day with this guy?"

"I thought she might have, yes. Tom was there, but he doesn't remember anything unusual. He left about four PM but several other staff stayed later. So, I got him to sneak into the administration office on Monday night and print a list of all the electronic logs from that day - you know, the times each person clocked in and out. They have a system where they have to swipe through the electronic gates on the ground floor of the building. It's for fire safety, I think."

"And?" Olivia can barely wait for this story to get to its conclusion. It's like something out of a spy movie.

"Everyone left by seven, except Melody Grant and a junior attorney called Jonathan Miers. They swiped out after nine o'clock, within five minutes of each other. It's possible they met up later; it's also possible that he's not the guy and it's completely unrelated. But… I'm wondering if they actually did it in the office."

Fitz's hand finds hers and squeezes hard. After the events of today, all the emotions stirred up by the visible evidence of her pregnancy, she can see how desperate he is to finally put an end to his marriage. Suddenly, everything has become _real_. "So what now?"

"So, I contacted him."

" _And?"_

"Do you want or good news or the bad news?"

Olivia grimaces. "The bad news?"

"He's leaving the country next weekend."

"Right." Their eyes meet; hopeful, uncertain, frightened. What now? "And the good news?"

"We're going on a date next Friday night."

* * *

To be continued...


	23. Who Is This Guy?

**A/N: It's been _ages_ , I know. I'm so sorry. I found this chapter so hard to start - but once I did, I wrote the whole thing in about ten hours. I really love these two and I hope I can update sooner next time. Your support and reviews are amazing. Thank you so much.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23 - Who Is This Guy?**

It's Sunday morning, two days after Abby called to reveal she had tracked down Jonathan Miers and her plan to go out with him the following Friday, to find the dirt Fitz so desperately needs on his wife. He's currently sitting in bed, discussing it with Olivia as she gets dressed to go out for breakfast with her father - except she's stopped moving, and is standing in front of the mirror in nothing but her black lingerie, holding her boobs.

"I think they've grown overnight." She turns to him, looking down at herself. "Do you?"

With the way she's pushing them together, he definitely has to agree. But his brain is suddenly incapable of saying so because his overwhelming reaction to her right now - gorgeous and bare, with her little baby bump - is of absolute and total love. It rushes through him in a second, filling him from head to toe. "Come here," he murmurs, reaching out his hand towards her.

She glances up and smiles, and he wonders if she is actually an angel. She kneels on the bed and straddles his lap; when she cuddles him, his face gets buried in her glorious chest and he kisses her soft skin, exploring the changing parts of her body.

"I love you," he says as his lips wander. He's gripping her waist, brushing his thumbs back and forth over her abdomen. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the fact that she's pregnant, growing their baby. It's already been three weeks since they found out and he's still overawed. "I love you so much, beautiful."

When their eyes meet, the air around them seems to set alight.

"Fitz," she sighs, holding his face in her palms, dipping her head to put her mouth on his. He inhales sharply, breathing her in as the kiss deepens, as she presses herself against him. She is the sexiest thing in the entire world and he _wants_ her, all the time.

But this time she draws away, breaking contact. She's already panting. He's already hard.

"We can't," she says, running her fingers through his hair.

"Why not?" He kisses her again, tenderly, and she lets him. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

"Not really. But I have to meet my dad in less than an hour, and I can't go there with you all over me. I can't."

"You can shower afterwards."

"Fitz!" she laughs, surprised. "That's not what I meant. Mentally, I just couldn't do it. I'm nervous enough anyway."

"I know. I was joking."

She smiles ruefully. "I love you, baby."

She starts to climb off of him but he makes her pause, cupping her breasts in his hands. "You're right," he says thoughtfully, "They are bigger today."

He kisses each one, then lifts her hips so she's kneeling higher, so he can brush his lips over her belly. "You're bigger too today, Little G." The affectionate nickname they gave the baby on their walk in Harriman State Park has stuck with him. Secretly, he wonders if the G, originally for 'grape' and then 'Grant', with become 'girl'.

Only time will tell.

"You may be bigger," Olivia is saying affectionately, "But you need to stay hidden today. We don't want Grandpa finding out about you yet. And now Mommy has pregnancy boobs as well…"

She trails off, looking worried.

"Livvie," Fitz says sternly, "You are _glowing_. You're stunning. Please don't be sad about that. It breaks my heart that you have to hide, to pretend."

"What choice do we have?"

"Maybe you could tell your dad about me? That would be a start, wouldn't it?"

But she shakes her head, standing up. He lets her go, hoping he hasn't upset her. "I want to," she says as she crosses the room, heading for her closet. "I really do. But… I don't know how. I've gone over it a hundred times in my head, and there's just no way to make 'I'm dating an older, married man who knocked me up the night we met' sound good."

They're both quiet for a while as she rummages through her clothes, eventually returning to the mirror with a small pile of different outfits.

"I don't understand why the age gap is such a huge issue," Fitz says carefully. "We're both adults."

Olivia pulls on a top and then looks at him levelly. "You don't understand fathers and daughters. Imagine if we have a little girl and one day, she brings home a man who's thirteen years older than her. How would you react?"

He frowns. Instinctively, he knows he wouldn't like it.

"The second issue," she continues, deciding against the top and taking it off again, "And I don't like saying this, is that you're white."

Fitz blinks. She's never hinted that that might be an issue for her father before, and despite his revelations during the week about how Olivia's race affects every aspect of her life, it hadn't occurred to him that Mr Pope might be in one of the groups that disapproved.

"I know that seems racist to you," she says before he can voice those exact words (something he's glad she's spared him from, because he doesn't feel comfortable making that accusation against someone he's never met before). "But my dad has this thing he always said when I was growing up: being black, I had to be twice as good to get half as much. You know it's true."

He nods, listening and watching with fascination as she tries on a pretty floral dress. "I do."

"He liked Edison." Her eyes meet his in the mirror, dark and calm. "Not for the way he treated me, obviously, but because he came from a large black family, went to a black church. You are… definitely not the man he's always hoped I'll marry."

She turns and comes over to him, perching next to him on the bed. "I don't agree with his views," she tells him seriously. "You make me feel twice as good, all the time. But you have to understand why this will be difficult for him. And he's my only close relative - I don't want to lose him. Then there's our mixed-race baby, as well…"

She looks so distressed that Fitz squeezes her hands tightly in his.

"You are not a disappointment, Olivia." When she gazes at him, he can see that his intuition was spot on. "You could _never_ be a disappointment. And I think you need to give your dad more credit. He might be more accepting than you expect. He loves you; he only wants you to be happy."

"I am happy," she says quietly, managing a small smile. "Stressed, but happy."

Fitz wishes he could take away all her fears - but there's only one man who can do that. "Whatever happens, I'll always be here to support you."

"I know." She leans in to kiss him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweet baby."

She stands again. "Do you think this dress is okay?"

"You mean, do you look eleven weeks pregnant? You do to me. But to anyone else, no. Your secret is safe."

"Our secret."

He grins at her. "But not for too much longer."

Pending Olivia's OB appointment and her scan at the end of the week, they're planning a dinner party with their closest friends next Sunday, to make the announcement. It would be nice to keep it to themselves for longer but, with everything going on, they're going to need all the help they can get if they run into any more problems. Plus, it felt so good sharing the news with Mark and Annabel last weekend; now he's desperate to tell Henry, and his father too. Olivia will be in LA over Thanksgiving for a couple of events and he's going to fly across too, to see his dad and introduce him to the love of his life.

He suspects the next few weeks will make it all a lot more real. And, hopefully, he will have his divorce papers signed and submitted to the courts, too. Ready to move on. Ready for the next chapter.

* * *

Olivia can barely sit still, she's so anxious. Her father keeps asking questions, straightforward enough, but she's so aware of what she's hiding beneath her clothes that it's all she can think about.

"How are you?" Eli asks.

 _Pregnant._

"What have you been doing lately?"

 _Growing a baby. Trying to get rid of my boyfriend's wife._

And she knows he can sense there's something wrong. The urge to tell him everything, to blurt it all out here in the middle of the restaurant, is pulling at her. Even though they're not close, she's never kept such important information from him before and it's hard. She wants to be able to share her exciting news with him, to let him know she's finally happy again after two years of misery since the end of her last relationship. But it's too much to reveal all at once. She doesn't want him to have a heart attack right in front of her.

"What's wrong, Olivia? You're very quiet today." His eyes - lighter than hers, which are her mother's - pierce straight through her, and she almost confesses. _Almost_. But then he continues speaking and she's reminded of how they are so different, of the kind of man he is, and of all the reasons why she can't be open with him even if she would like to be. "Anyone would think you didn't want to be here; that you would rather be somewhere else, instead of with your father who you haven't seen in over a month."

The guilt trip: his old favorite. Suddenly, any notion of telling him _anything_ is gone from her mind. This is what always happens when they've spent time apart: she starts to think better of him, to think he might be kinder and more accepting than in her memory. Then they meet up and he shows his true colors once again, destroying a child's foolish hopes that her daddy is actually the sweet, caring man she wishes he was.

"No, Dad. I'm sorry." She takes a sip of her juice, trying to stay calm. She's not the disappointment - he is. And yet what can she do? She's too afraid of him to stand up to him. She still loves him, still forgives him his flaws because he lost the woman he loved, and he's always done his best to bring up their daughter - even if his best wasn't the warm, affectionate kind of parenting she actually needed. She thinks about her baby and how different its upbringing will be - she and Fitz will make sure of it.

"I'm just tired," she goes on, her tone hard now. She wishes she was back at home. "I've been really busy lately."

"Doing what?"

Her work is something they can always talk about because she knows he's proud of her for it, and he's interested. They while away the next hour discussing her UN projects, her charity Christmas fundraisers, Eli's next trip abroad to give an address at the European Mammalian Congress.

"I'm flying out on Thanksgiving… I'll be there over your mother's anniversary."

November twenty-ninth: the day their worlds changed forever. Every year since, they've visited her grave together and the news that he won't be there shakes Olivia to her core. It must show on her face because his expression softens - a rare sight.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could be here with you. I almost didn't accept the invitation."

"No," she says firmly, "You have to go. It's a huge honor for you. I'll be okay."

"Do you have someone who can take you?" He looks genuinely upset. Where was this fatherly concern during her teenage years, her messy break-up with Edison?

"Yes," she reassures him, thinking of Fitz. His words about her father come back to her: _'he only wants you to be happy'._ And then, without thinking too hard about it, without giving herself chance to back out, she tells him: "I'm dating someone. He'll give me a ride."

Eli is taken aback. "Oh. I see. When were you going to-" But he stops himself; resists his instinct to admonish her. Maybe he is learning, after all. Maybe she _should_ give him more credit. "Is he… nice?"

She smiles. "Of course he's _nice_."

"And he's good to you?"

"Yes. Very."

He studies her for a long moment. "You're not going to tell me anything else about him, are you?"

Olivia finds herself laughing; to her surprise, her father joins in. "Not yet," she says softly. The fact that he clearly understands her hesitance implies he has at least some self-awareness of his own behavior, and how judgmental he can be. She tries not to get too excited about how promising that is.

"Fair enough," he says lightly. "As long as you're happy."

"I am. I'm good."

"Good. You look beautiful today, by the way. Just like your mother." He stares into his coffee cup. "I know I'm difficult, Olivia. You think I expect perfection from you-"

"Because that's what you used to say to me, all the time."

His smile is wistful as he gazes at her again. "I remember. And I should have apologized for that long ago, because you are already perfect. You've been perfect since the day you were born. I should tell you more often. So… I'm sorry."

Olivia is speechless. For once, she can't blame her emotions on her pregnancy: that kind of admission from him would always have made her cry. "Dad," she breathes, reaching for his hand. It's been a long time since they've shared such an honest moment. Their relationship is so complicated she can barely keep up; and yet, underneath it all, she's never doubted that he loves her - unconditionally.

"What was I like as a baby?" she inquires, wiping away her tears with her napkin. She hadn't dared to believe she'd be able to ask him these kinds of questions, to inform herself about her own possible future.

"You were... very good. A little fussy sometimes, especially when your mother went out and left you with me. But after five minutes, you'd be happy again. We had a lot of fun together. As soon as you could walk I used to chase you around the house, pin you to the floor and blow raspberries on your little belly. I'll never forget how you squealed with delight."

They share a fond smile. She can imagine Fitz doing exactly the same thing with their child. "How was my birth? Was Mom okay?"

Eli leans forward and rests his chin on his palm, looking thoughtful. If he's suspicious as to why she's so interested, he doesn't show it. "She was amazing. They had to induce her at forty-one weeks. She was in labor for thirty-six hours, but she barely complained. She was just so excited to meet you."

The longing for her mother, which has faded over time but never disappeared completely, suddenly returns full-force. "God, I wish she was here," Olivia says, tearing up again. She looks away across the restaurant, trying to control herself.

"So do I. Every day."

That breaks her.

"Oh, Daddy." She stands up and he's on his feet too by the time she's rounded the table, welcoming her into his arms. They stay there for several minutes: remembering, mourning… and, maybe, healing a little, too. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby girl."

He hasn't called her that for _years_. She wonders why he's suddenly opening up, apologizing to her. Is it just because he feels guilty about missing the anniversary of her mother's death, or because he really wants to make amends? And if it's the latter, why now? What's changed? He seems the same as ever. Can he somehow sense a change in her? She certainly feels more vulnerable now. Falling in love and deciding to have a baby will do that to a woman.

"Well," her father says at length, stepping back. He seems a little awkward. "That was… unexpected. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You didn't. I love to hear you talk about Mom, and my childhood."

"Maybe we should do it again sometime?"

"Yes please."

He has no idea how many more questions she has about her early years. It all helps build up a picture in her mind of how her life might look when her son or daughter comes along.

"When are you next free?" Eli asks, after signaling to the server for the check.

"Whenever you want."

He seems genuinely touched by her response. "Okay. I'll be in touch soon then."

"Would you like me to pay this time?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Olivia. I'm your father."

And she has to laugh, because for the first time in a long time, she actually feels like he is. And, while it doesn't make up for the years of distance he put between them, for the moment it feels really, really good.

* * *

Buoyed by how well she bonded with her dad, Olivia's week flies by. With each day she gets closer to twelve weeks, feeling more and more secure about her pregnancy. Her OB appointment is on Friday and they are both so excited to see their baby on screen - Fitz especially, given it's his first time.

He's been calling his lawyer daily, asking her to put pressure on his wife's representative. He doesn't seem particularly optimistic that it will work - which, given his description of Clarissa Ma, doesn't surprise Olivia - but she's grateful that he's trying anyway. They are almost totally relying on Abby's plan to succeed: they met with her on Monday night to discuss how she might go about getting their suspect to confess. Olivia then spoke to Huck, who is a computer genius (and borderline hacker, but that's a very closely kept secret), asking him to track down any dirt he could find on Jonathan Miers.

"We might not have to use it," she'd explained when Fitz looked shocked at the mere suggestion of more underhand tactics. "All we need is him to confess that your wife did something - _anything_ \- outside of company rules and we've got her. She'll have to sign your papers or it's goodbye partnership."

"And if she hasn't done anything wrong, which I find very unlikely," Abby had chimed in, "We can use our information to convince Mr Miers to say that she has."

Fitz had sighed and run his hands over his face. Olivia knew how tired he was of this whole debacle. "Fine. Whatever works. But please, spare me the details."

Later that night, when they were in bed, she'd held him close in the dark. "We don't have to do it dirty if you don't want to," she'd whispered. "I just want it to be successful. I want you to be free."

"So do I," he'd replied wearily. "That's all that matters. Do it however you need to. Besides, I'm the one who started all this."

She'd kissed his forehead, his temple, his cheek. "You're a good man, Fitz. I know you don't want to hurt her, but she's hurting you and I can't bear it. I won't let her do this to you anymore."

He'd loved her so fiercely, after that. She still trembles whenever she thinks about it.

She meets him outside the obstetrician's office on Friday afternoon. "Professor Mohammed Iftikhar," he reads from the plaque on the wall as they enter the building. "How did you find him again?"

"I went through all the online ratings websites I could find, read some of his extensive research, saw he's delivered countless celebrities' babies so he's particularly stringent about patient confidentiality. He's a university lecturer too. By all accounts, he's the best."

"Well then," Fitz admits, "I guess he'll do."

Olivia smiles at him; once they're inside the elevator, heading for the fifth floor, she kisses him. "You're so protective. It's cute."

"I know."

She laughs and takes his hand. She's already phoned ahead, paid enough for her appointment to ensure she's the only client at this time of day. Being able to act like a normal couple is so thrilling, she lets him kiss her again even as the doors are opening.

They check in with the receptionist, Olivia giving her real name this time. Professor Iftikhar, a greying gentleman who grew up and studied in India before taking up his OBGYN residency in Boston thirty years ago, is punctual, warm and friendly. She likes him immediately. He asks her and Fitz about themselves, where they're from, how they met. When she confesses it was an unplanned pregnancy, he smiles.

"In all my years so far, I have found that some of the best things in life are unplanned. Now, shall we have a look at this baby?"

"Yes please."

She can sense how nervous Fitz is, sitting in the chair beside the examination couch she's lying on, his hand fidgeting in hers. She meets his eyes as Professor Iftikhar sets up his ultrasound machine, offering a reassuring smile. "Love you," she mouths, and he seems to settle slightly.

"Love you too."

His gaze drifts downwards as she lifts her blouse, lowers the waistband of her pants. Her little bump has grown slightly in the last week, protruding below her belly button; however, lying flat it's almost indiscernible.

"Right," the professor says, "This will feel cold."

When he applies the gel-covered probe to her abdomen, she flinches and he immediately apologizes - but she's not listening because she can already see her baby there on the screen, and it's just the most beautiful thing in the _world_.

"There we are. One baby… There's its heart beating."

This sonogram is so different from her last one, when she felt so afraid; so detached. Now, she's the opposite: she already loves her child so much that seeing it there, alive, moving inside of her, just blows her away. And then she turns to look at Fitz, who has tears in his eyes, falling onto his cheeks, and the floodgates open.

Professor Iftikhar passes them a box of Kleenex, smiling kindly. "Everything looks good so far Olivia, Fitz. I'm just going to take some of baby's measurements."

They both watch, completely fascinated, as more and more of their child is revealed to them: its crown-rump length and biparietal distance; its tiny internal organs, spine, arms and legs; the placenta, which is posterior and high (apparently a good thing). One arm is raised, hiding most of its face, but eventually it moves - which Olivia finds bizarre, as she can't feel a thing - and they can see its little button nose and pursed lips. The professor takes several images, printing them off.

"It's too early to reveal baby's gender," he says, "but I can tell you that everything I've seen looks perfect. I'll just check your other abdominal and pelvic organs, Olivia. It's quite routine."

Afterwards, as he tidies his equipment away and she wipes the gel from her skin, Fitz finally speaks. "That was… _incredible_." His voice is hoarse. She looks at him and sees he's still thoroughly shaken.

"It was amazing. I'm _so_ excited."

He leans in and kisses her, his palm coming to rest on her belly. She covers his hand with hers, happier than she's ever been before. When she eventually sits up again and pulls her top back down, Professor Iftikhar is entering some data into his computer.

"Are you both okay?" he asks compassionately. "It can be overwhelming sometimes."

"We're good, thank you," Olivia replies with a smile, brushing away the last of her tears. "You must get bored of over-emotional parents."

"Never," he grins. "It's one of the reasons I love my job so much. Now, when is your due date, according to your earlier scan?"

"June seventh."

"Well, it was right. According to my measurements, you are still due June seventh." Fitz squeezes her thigh. "Today you are… eleven weeks, five days. So a way to go yet, but you've made a great start."

"Is it okay to tell people?" Fitz asks. "I know the conventional wisdom is to wait until twelve weeks -surely nothing will change between now and Sunday?"

"Well, you can never say never. But there's no reason why anything should change. I'm not worried about you, Olivia," the professor says with a reassuring smile. "You've been taking your folic acid every day - which you can stop at twelve weeks, by the way, as the baby's spinal cord has developed by then - and you're young, fit and healthy. There's nothing else you can do except continue along as you are. Eat well, exercise. I'll send you for some blood tests - check your iron levels, screen you for several infections. You can have them early next week, that's fine. And call me straight away if you're worried about anything. Okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Do you have any questions?"

She asks him a few things, about whether she can continue to practice yoga (absolutely, with modifications), when she might feel movements (any time from sixteen to twenty-four weeks; usually later in first-time moms), when her next ultrasound will be (the anomaly scan at twenty weeks, unless there are problems).

"Oh," he says just as they're wrapping up, "I had some test results through from Dr Roberts. Would you like Fitz to leave while we discuss them?"

Olivia has no idea what he's talking about. "Um… no, he can stay. What test results?"

"Your STI screen. It was clear."

"Oh." She laughs. She'd completely forgotten to tell Fitz about that, and looks at him with an apologetic smile. "The doctor insisted," she explains. "Sorry I didn't mention it before."

"That's okay." He returns her smile. "I've already gotten you into enough trouble; I wouldn't add any more."

Olivia picks up the photographs of their baby from the desk. "This isn't trouble," she says softly. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

They bid farewell to Professor Iftikhar, both certain that her choice of OB is perfect for them. Fitz hasn't made a single comment about him being male, something she's certain is a measure of his maturity. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that Edison would have insisted on a female doctor if they'd ever gone on to have children (a thought which makes her shiver, and quickly banish forever).

They spend the evening at Henry's place because it's nearer the city, and Abby will be coming round after her 'date' to let them know how it went. They're nervous, eating pasta in the kitchen, distracting themselves by looking at the images from her scan. "I can't wait to see everyone's faces when we tell them," Olivia says, thinking how stunned her friends will be.

"You're sure they'll all be happy for you?"

She frowns. "Of course they will. They're my closest friends. Why do you say that?"

"No reason." He tidies away their bowls, kissing her cheek as he passes. "I'd just hate for you to be hurt. Nobody else truly understands our relationship yet. I know they saw us together on your birthday, but what we think is normal is actually pretty unusual."

"They'll be fine," she insists, and she's sure of it. "What about Henry, Cyrus, James?"

"Cy and James will be shocked, but I think they'll be really happy for us. James loves babies. Henry will probably be the least surprised of all as he knows us the best. It will certainly explain last week's shower incident."

She laughs and blushes, remembering how he found them pretty much naked together on the floor in Fitz's bedroom.

"Actually, I really want him to know," Fitz goes on. "He's been so good to me. I don't like keeping it from him."

"We could tell him sooner, if you like. We don't have to wait until Sunday."

Fitz looks at her. "He'll be home soon. Maybe we could… leave these lying around for him to find?" He gestures to the images. "It'll be funny to see how long it takes him to realize what's going on."

"We could casually pin one to the fridge?"

"You, my beautiful girl, are a genius."

He picks up one of the pictures, which has Olivia's name and today's date printed in the top corner, and sticks it to the refrigerator door just below eye level using a magnet of the Eiffel Tower. Then he takes her in his arms and holds her tightly, sending up a silent prayer to whoever is listening that tonight works out, and that soon his nightmare will be over.

* * *

Henry figures it out within about ten minutes of arriving home. He's helping himself to leftovers in the kitchen, calling through to the living room to ask if they want anything to drink, when suddenly they can hear his footsteps rushing towards them. Fitz turns to see him enter, holding the sonogram image in front of him, mouth agape.

"What is _this?_ " he asks, gazing between Fitz and Olivia. "Are you joking?"

"No," Fitz says solemnly as she shakes her head. They are both smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Fuck. You're pregnant?"

She just continues to beam at him as she stands up, lifting her sweater to show off the new shape of her abdomen beneath her tank top. "I am pregnant."

"Wow. Congratulations!" Finally, a grin lights up his face and he pulls first Olivia and then Fitz into a giant hug. "Man," he says to his friend, "This is so cool. I'm so happy for you. I can't think of two people who will make better parents."

"Thanks, buddy. That means a lot."

"How long have you known for?"

"Four weeks," Olivia answers. "Sorry we didn't say anything sooner, but you know…"

"Yeah, I know. That's fine." He still looks shell-shocked. "So you're twelve weeks now?"

"On Sunday."

"Ah. The dinner party."

Fitz grins. "Subtle, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't have guessed in a million years. Although, last week… You two sitting on the floor in a towel-"

"Yes," he interrupts quickly, glancing at Olivia, "That was pregnancy-related. Also very embarrassing for Liv, so can we never mention it again?"

Henry laughs. "I'll try. Wait, tonight's also the night your friend is coming over, right? Hopefully bringing the dirt on Mellie."

"That's right."

"Big day then."

Olivia's hand is absentmindedly stroking her belly, something Fitz has noticed her doing recently whenever she's worried about something. "Yeah. Big day."

He puts his arm around her shoulders, kissing her hair. "It'll be fine. I promise. What can I do to take your mind off it? Would you like a chamomile tea?"

"Yes please. That'd be great."

In the kitchen, Henry finishes heating his pasta while Fitz boils the kettle. "Twelve weeks…" his friend muses. "How long have you two known each other again?"

Fitz rolls his eyes at his failed attempt at subtlety. "Yes, it happened the night we met. Well, the morning after, actually."

"Didn't you use-"

"No."

"I see." Henry is smiling, trying to make him uncomfortable, but it's not working.

"I'm not embarrassed," he says evenly. "It's the most amazing thing that has ever happened to either of us. And you know how long I've wanted children for," he adds quietly. "This feels like fate. I still can't believe it's actually real, sometimes."

Henry's expression changes then, from amused to affectionate. "Aw, Fitz. That's great. I genuinely am so pleased for you."

"I know. Thank you."

"And I can see why Mellie is such an issue now." He grimaces, mimicking Fitz's own feelings. "You must be desperate to get her signature on those papers."

"More than desperate. I promised Olivia I'd make myself free for her, for our baby. She deserves better than this… And it's killing me."

"Man." Henry claps him on the back. "It'll all work out, I'm sure. What's important at the end of the day? That you're together, and healthy."

"I know. You're right." He sighs and pours Olivia's tea into her favorite mug. "Anyway, we need a way to distract ourselves until Abby comes over later. Any good movies you can recommend?"

Cinema is one of Henry's great passions. "Always, my friend. Come this way."

* * *

Abby calls at the very end of _Les Intouchables_ , a French film which has Olivia bawling her eyes out for most of the second half. "You're so adorable," Fitz says fondly, cuddling her close as she blows her nose.

"Ugh, I'm so snotty right now. Thanks for that, Henry. Next time maybe choose something a little easier on the pregnant girl's hormones, okay?"

He laughs, offering an apology as her mobile rings.

"It's her." Suddenly the movie is forgotten. They all sit up straighter, staring at the phone in trepidation. "Hey," Olivia says when she answers, her voice shaking - from tears, or nerves, or both. There's a lot of background noise: people shouting, traffic, rain. "How did it go?"

"Great! Literally, could not have been any easier. I'm just grabbing a taxi now. I'll see you in fifteen, okay?"

"Okay." Abby hangs up and Olivia turns to the two men, stunned. "Wow. She said it went great. 'Couldn't have been easier'."

"Oh my god." Fitz is staring at her, hardly daring to believe his own ears. "She really said that?"

"Yep."

"See," Henry adds as he stands up, heading for the bathroom, "I told you. It's all gonna be fine."

"I hope so." She texts her friend, double-checking she heard right.

 _He likes to talk_ , Abby replies straight away. _Like, seriously likes to talk. He told me pretty much everything. Mellie has no leg to stand on, honestly xx_

She shows the message to Fitz, whose reaction is: "Fuck."

Olivia's heart, which has been pounding away for the last few minutes, finally starts to settle again. She climbs onto Fitz's lap, sitting sideways, resting her forehead against his. Automatically his palm moves beneath her sweater and tank top, coming to lie on her abdomen, skin to skin.

"If Abby's right," he murmurs, "I might tell her I love her. But that's just the relief talking, okay? I won't mean it."

"I will," she replies forcefully. "We'll have to do something really special to thank her."

"Definitely."

They pass the next few minutes anxiously wandering around the house, tidying things which are already tidy, staring unseeing at the news. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they see headlamps outside the front window and then, seconds later, the doorbell rings.

"Hey," Abby says happily as she crosses the threshold and hugs Olivia. "How are you?"

"Good, thanks."

"How's baby Grant?" She looks down expectantly. Olivia dutifully reveals her bump; despite how desperate she is to hear Abby's news, her friend's excited reaction still makes her smile. "Oh my god, Liv. That's so cute! You really are pregnant."

"I wasn't pretending, you know."

"I know. But you look great! It really suits you."

"Thanks. Now, before you keep distracting me, you need to tell us everything that's happened. We've been dying here, waiting."

Abby grins as she pulls a GoPro out of her handbag. "I can do more than tell you."

After greeting Fitz and being introduced to Henry, who seems particularly charmed by her, they all sit down in the living room while Henry connects the camera to his TV. Abby is studying the sonogram pictures while they wait. "It looks like… a baby," she says eventually.

Olivia frowns. "What?"

"Maybe best to say something a little _nicer_ to the expectant parents," Henry suggests, trying not to laugh.

"No, I mean… I thought it might look a bit alien, but it actually looks like a baby already. That's awesome."

"Right."

"Something for you to work on," Henry says kindly, taking a seat beside her on the sofa. "Are we ready?"

Fitz is gripping Olivia's hand so tightly she thinks she might lose circulation, but she doesn't ask him to stop. "Ready," they say together.

The film starts shakily, muffled and dark. "I was trying to set it up in my bag," Abby explains. "Can we fast forward five minutes?"

"Is that him?" Olivia asks as a fairly tall, well-built guy comes into view. He's good looking in a 'trying way too hard' kind of way, and she immediately dislikes him.

"Yep," Abby confirms. "That's Jonathan." The two of them chat for a few minutes, making small talk.

"We can fast forward again, about fifteen minutes," she says. "He's just telling me some crap about how Cornell is the greatest place on earth. Blah blah. Keep going… Now stop. Stop there."

Jonathan is still talking about his beloved law school. He seems unbelievably arrogant. "Look," Abby interrupts. She's not really in the picture but her voice is clear, despite the background noise. "I actually had an ulterior motive, meeting you here tonight."

"Oh yeah? Because I did, too." The way his eyes fall so brazenly down her body makes Olivia's mouth fall open.

"Jesus," Fitz murmurs. "Who is this guy?"

"Nobody I can't handle," Abby reassures them. "Now, listen."

On screen, she's telling him that she knows something about him sleeping with one of his bosses. "How do you-? What the fuck?" he asks, clearly sensing danger.

"I have friends in high places."

"I didn't-"

"No, Jonathan, you don't understand. This isn't some vendetta against you. I'm not threatening you. I actually wanted to know how you did it."

He looks confused. "What? _Why?_ "

"For the same reasons, I'm guessing. To get ahead in this game. Being a junior attorney is crappy. We both know that. There aren't enough jobs in this city for us all to get promotions, and I want one. I deserve one."

He stares at her for a long moment. "Wait. You want me to tell you how to sleep with your boss? Can't you figure that out for yourself?"

"Of course I can," she says smoothly, "But I just wanted some tips. Mellie Grant… She's got quite a reputation, hasn't she? How did you even get close to her?"

Jonathan takes a sip of his beer, looking thoughtful. "This is weird - you know that, right? If you weren't so hot, I'd be out of here right now."

"Thank you for the compliment," Abby gushes, and she sounds so fake Olivia is surprised he doesn't realize straight away. "But I'm serious. I'm ambitious, Jonathan. I know you are too. I've heard great things about you. Us sharks need to stick together, to rise about the rest. I'm asking you to help me."

"You know I'm leaving for London tomorrow, right? I'm spending a year at one of the oldest law firms in the country."

"You told me. And so it makes no difference to you if I get promoted in the next six months, does it?"

He sighs. "What do you want to know?"

"Is it true? Did you have sex with her in your office?"

"Yes."

Fitz gasps. Olivia looks at him and, for the briefest second, she wonders if he's truly upset at the news. Then she chides herself for being so stupid. He's just astounded that all their speculation has turned out to be true.

"When?" Abby is asking on the video.

"One Saturday night, a couple of months ago. There was a company audit. She asked me to stay late."

"Do you think she was trying to seduce you?"

"Yes."

This time, Fitz, Henry and Olivia all react loudly. Abby shushes them.

"Why do you think that?"

"We used to flirt. It's one of my many charms, as you've probably realized by now." _Ew._ "I was thinking I might try and stay back that evening, to see what happened. And then she asked me to, and I knew it was on."

"Right." Olivia can hear the revulsion in Abby's voice. "So, did she imply that you'd benefit in any way from sleeping with her?"

"She might have joked that it would look good for me. I think it was just flirting, but I knew I'd have leverage over her in the future if I ever needed it."

The real-life Abby stands up now, telling Henry he can pause the video. "That's it," she says smugly. "That's all the evidence you could ever need to blackmail her with."

"But that's secret footage," Henry says, frowning. "Isn't that inadmissible in a court of law?"

"It doesn't matter," Fitz answers, sitting forward. Olivia can see that all the tension he's been carrying around in his body for the last month is finally starting to leave him. "We'll never go to court with this. Does it look like this jerk wants to press charges against her? Of course not. But she only has to _think_ he might. Or that I might show the footage to her boss. And, with him leaving the country, he's safe from her. She won't have chance to get to him, to find out if it's all true or not. It's… perfect."

Abby grins at him. The next second, he's on his feet and hugging her. "Thank you. _Thank you_."

"My pleasure," she says. "I really enjoyed myself."

"How did you get out of there?" Olivia asks. "He was such a creep."

"Tell me about it. I did the age-old trick of going to the bathroom and never returning. He had, like, three leaving parties to go to afterwards anyway. I'm sure he'll find some other girl to bore to death tonight."

"You're a damn good lawyer, Whelan," Olivia tells her proudly. "I bet you could have gotten him to admit to anything. Next time you try and convince me otherwise, I'm going to show this to you and tell you to shut the hell up."

"Duly noted."

They share a long embrace. Naturally, everyone then turns expectantly to Henry, who's the only one who hasn't congratulated her.

"Well," he says, hands in his pockets, "I know we've only just met, but I can tell you now that I don't ever want to meet you in a courtroom. You're quite formidable, Abby. In the best way possible."

Her smiling eyes linger on his just a fraction of a second too long; Olivia glances at Fitz who has also noticed, and they grin at one another. They've discussed before how they think Abby and Henry would make a good couple - they're both loud, fun and a little bit crazy.

"Celebratory drinks all round then?" Henry suggests, clapping his hands together. "Except you of course, Liv. I can rustle up a nice mocktail for you."

"Thanks," she laughs. "Something with pineapple, please. There's some in the fridge. The baby has been craving it lately."

"No problem. Abby, Fitz, Champagne?"

"Of course."

"Yes please."

He disappears into the kitchen. Fitz pulls Olivia into his side, kissing her temple. "God, I can't believe it's almost over. Do you think I should go email Jemima and Harrison now, ask them to prepare the documents we need?"

"They won't check their email over the weekend," Olivia reasons. "You may as well just call them first thing Monday. You can probably have it all sorted by midweek next week."

"I hope so."

Abby turns and picks up the GoPro, politely giving them a moment together. Olivia reaches up and presses her lips to his, her fingers curling into the hair at the back of his neck. "You'll be mine soon enough," she murmurs, unable to stop the smile which curves her mouth.

"I've always been yours."

"I know. But really, truly mine."

"I can't wait."

"Neither can I."

She kisses him once more before they both sit down again. "Hey Abs," she asks, "Did Huck send you any dirt on him?"

She doesn't want to mention that man's name ever again.

"He did, actually."

"Anything good?"

Abby grins. "Oh yeah. His family has a _lot_ of hidden secrets. We're talking feuds, embezzlement, incest-"

" _Incest?"_

"Yep. And that's just the start. It's going to be really useful in future if we're ever in competition for positions."

"Wow. You are ruthless."

"It's a dirty world out there," she shrugs. "You have to fuck the bad guys over before they do it to you."

"What an... interesting life lesson," Fitz says, his eyes bright with bemusement. "Remind me never to leave you alone with our child."

Henry reappears with their glasses. "What are we toasting to?" he asks, handing them out.

"To Abby," Fitz begins.

"To the end of your marriage," Olivia adds with a mischievous smile.

"To baby Grant," Henry continues.

"And to fucking the bad guys over," Abby finishes, in the most perfect way possible.


	24. An Interlude

**A/N: Because it's been a while, and because I have no idea when I'll be able to write a whole chapter, I finished this today and thought I'd share. It's short but sweet. I hope you enjoy it and I'll try to be back again with more as soon as I can.**

 **Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: An Interlude**

Olivia wakes in the best way on Sunday morning: slowly, from the most restful sleep, with pale sunlight streaming in through the windows and Fitz gently sliding his hands beneath her pajamas, kissing his way down her body.

"Mmm," she sighs contentedly, stretching out. "Good morning."

She pushes back the covers to see him nuzzling her belly, humming against her skin. When he glances up and smiles at her, her heart skips a beat. He is unreasonably handsome today, with his perfect teeth, chestnut curls and bright blue eyes full of adoration.

Desire uncoils itself deep in her core, silky and warm.

"Welcome to the day," he says cutely, making her melt a little inside. "And welcome to twelve weeks."

She gasps, a combination of his renewed kisses and the realization that they have made it to the first milestone. "Wow. Three months already."

"Only seven to go… and then we get to meet you, little one." When his gaze meets hers again, it's with an intensity that is all too familiar. "You're amazing, Livvie."

Suddenly he's shifting up the bed to lie above her, his weight resting on his elbows, his words soft and urgent. "I _love_ you."

He kisses her fiercely, catching her by surprise. For several seconds she's perfectly still, totally swept away; then, when she finally inhales, her chest expands and floods with so many emotions her eyes sting with tears. Before she can say anything, though, or try to communicate just how much she loves him in return, he's drawing away, standing up.

"Stay there," he instructs as he leaves the room.

As much as she would like to, waiting for whatever surprise he has planned, she does have to get up to pee. Afterwards, brushing her teeth (because she's not feeling nauseous this morning and she _really_ wants him), she wanders back into the bedroom and stands side-on to the mirror, lifting her pajama shirt. Her baby bump hasn't changed overnight that she can see, but knowing she's at twelve weeks now attaches so much more significance to it. When Fitz returns she looks at him via the glass, grinning around her toothbrush.

"You are so beautiful," he says solemnly. He puts whatever he's holding down on the bed and comes over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. They turn to face the mirror, his hands splayed protectively on her abdomen. "Hi beautiful girl, with your beautiful belly. I need to get a photo of you, start documenting week by week."

He takes his phone from his pocket but she gestures to her mouth, mumbling: "Wait!"

She finishes up in the bathroom and when she returns, she finds Fitz holding out a bunch of pale pink roses and a wrapped gift. "For you."

She stares at him, wide-eyed. "Why?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Do I need a reason?"

Could he be any sweeter? It's something she finds herself asking most days, and yet he continues to surpass himself.

She takes the roses from him, breathing in their scent. "Twelve," she notes, beaming at him. "You're so thoughtful Fitzy. Did you go out this morning for these?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

She lets him take the flowers from her, placing them on her dresser. As he watches her opening the gift, she can sense his apprehension, hoping she'll like whatever is inside…

He needn't have worried. There are two items, both made of the softest, organic white cotton: a t-shirt printed with the words 'Mama Bird' and a tiny newborn onesie, with matching font reading 'Baby Bird'. She wants to cry; no, she _is_ crying.

"Do you like them?" he's asking as she hugs him tightly, burying her face in his neck.

"Oh my god, Fitz. I love them."

"I wasn't sure if it was too soon to buy baby clothes or not, but I saw them and I couldn't resist."

"It's not too soon." She gazes up at him, totally and irrevocably in love. "They're perfect. _Thank you_."

He wipes her cheeks with his thumbs, kissing her deeply. Several moments later she's letting the gifts fall to the ground as she rises into him, her body coming alive in his arms.

"The photo," Fitz reminds her as she pulls off his t-shirt, his jeans. He's already growing hard for her, tenting his boxers. She slips her hand inside and begins to stroke him, pressing herself against his rigid abs, his perfectly-defined chest. He keeps calling her beautiful, but she's not the one who's built like a Greek god.

"Later," she says between kisses. "I'll still be pregnant in half an hour."

"What about an hour? Maybe even two…"

She pauses, surprised. "What are you gonna do to me?"

"Well…"

Before she knows it, her pajamas are on the floor and Fitz is kissing his way down her bare skin a second time. "One day soon," he muses, kneeling in front of her, "I won't be able to see your face from down here."

He looks into her eyes again as he tugs down her underwear and kisses her center; holds her hips still when he starts to lick her, keeping her upright.

" _Fitz_ ," she moans, tangling her fingers in his hair as his words and his tongue send fireworks shooting through her muscles, bursting into sparks along her nerves.

But he doesn't acknowledge her pleading tone, instead pushing her legs further apart, letting his mouth explore her inner thighs. "Do you like this, baby?"

" _Mmm_."

He slips one long finger into her, closely followed by a second. "And this?"

"Yes!"

"Don't close your eyes. Look at me." When she does, fighting against the surges of pleasure sweeping over her, he smiles. "I need to make the most of being able to watch you while I still can. I love watching you come. Will you?"

Somewhere in the cacophony of her sounds is an affirmative, a whispered _"yes"_ , while he kisses her the same way he kisses her mouth and she tries to keep her grip on reality. When she catches sight of them in the mirror, it's so erotic that her desire rockets up a thousand percent, hurtling her towards the edge.

"Fitz, look."

He turns, seeing what she sees. Then he begins to stand, kissing her belly on his way, lavishing attention on each of her breasts for a few, torturous seconds before finally moving behind her. She watches with fascination, trembling, as his reflection caresses her body: pale hands on dark skin, fingers between her thighs, cupping her breast, rolling her nipple. Her head falls onto his shoulder and he bites her neck hard enough to hurt, to make her jerk with pleasure.

"Well done, baby," he says, drawing rapid, achingly tender circles on her clit. She's so close she can barely process his words. "Now I can watch you like this every day. You are so sexy, Livvie. Look at you."

Every sensation converges: sight, smell, touch, throb, jolt, _explosion_. He grips her tightly as she falls apart; then he carries her to the bed, takes off his underwear, kneels behind her and makes her come again with the fastest, deepest thrusts she's ever felt. Olivia thinks he can probably tell that her arms are shaking, her body so spent and her mind so far gone she's having trouble supporting herself, because he instructs her to lie down and they do so together, slowly, until she's flat on her front and he's surrounding her so completely he's the only thing she knows.

And it's heavenly. If she could be anywhere for the rest of her life, this is the place she'd choose: where nothing matters except them, and their little family of three.

Fitz entwines their fingers, kissing her cheek, whispering sweet everythings into her ear. It's so intimate, sharing his air, feeling his sweat on her skin, hearing his every groan and stuttered breath. She loves the way he smells: the real scent of him beneath body wash and deodorant and cologne, that only she is allowed close enough to know. She loves how fearlessly open he is when they're together like this, and how careful he is with her even when he's brimming over with passion. She loves that he loves her enough that those are the words he repeats over and over, even when he's about to break apart.

"Love you too," she murmurs, kissing his jaw, squeezing his hands, feeling every single one of his muscles tensing as he finally lets go. In their own little world, in the millimeters of hot, sticky air between her face and his, his pleasure becomes hers too. She feels his climax, feels his release as her own, his pounding heart and his satisfaction. It's such an intense experience, seemingly born from nothing at all except a usual Sunday morning, a young couple in love.

But that is their power. That is what they are together: the sum more than their parts. They are exponential; limitless.

They are everything.

"Have you ever felt like this before?" Olivia asks in a small voice, because she's afraid of his answer and because he's still on top of her, pinning her to the bed, reducing the volume of her lungs (but in the most comforting way).

He moves off of her very slightly, just enough so he can look straight into her eyes. "You know I haven't," he replies, frowning. "This is once in a lifetime, Livvie. Why are you asking?"

She reaches up and brushes her fingertips through his curls, trying to figure out how to verbalize what she's thinking. "I just… don't understand why your wife is keeping you from this. How can anyone be so selfish?"

His expression softens and she can actually see him falling even more in love with her. "You are just the sweetest thing," he sighs and then he's kissing her, hard, despite the angle of their mouths and the way they have to strain their necks to reach.

She whimpers, overwhelmed. God, she wants him to be hers more than she's ever wanted anything else before. She wants to wear his rings on her left hand, to shout out to the world that they're together, strong, unstoppable.

"How are you going to celebrate?" she asks, breathlessly, when he finally lets her go.

"Celebrate…?"

"Getting her to sign the papers. And your divorce."

He smiles, then gently pulls out of her and rolls away, reaching for the box of tissues on her bedside cabinet, taking a couple and passing one to her. "I am going to take my gorgeous, pregnant girlfriend out for the most incredible date night - all top secret, of course - and then we're both going to come down with some mysterious illness which means we definitely can't go into work, and we'll spend the whole week right here in this bed, doing exactly what we just did as often as physically possible."

Olivia laughs as she sits up. "I like the sound of that."

"I _love_ the sound of it."

She presses a playful kiss to his lips. "And I love you. Now, will you be joining me in the shower?"

"Is that something I would _ever_ say no to?"

Afterwards, she picks out a matching set of black underwear and lets Fitz take photos of her as she stands in front of the bedroom wall. She most definitely looks pregnant now, with the natural curve of her lower spine accentuating her bump, and seeing pictures of herself captured on screen fills her with bubbling excitement, making her jump up and down - and making him laugh.

"You are so cute," he says fondly, folding her into his embrace. "I almost don't want to tell everyone else later. I love that it's our secret."

"I love it too, but I think we kinda have to. I can't hide forever and we're going to need all the help we can get."

"I know. You're right."

She gives him her most mischievous grin. "I know. I always am."


	25. Are You Ready?

**A/N: I seriously loved writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! (Apologies in advance for the cliffhanger... sorry/not sorry.)**

* * *

"Are you having fun, baby?"

Olivia feels Fitz's arms slide around her waist and turns her head to the side to kiss his cheek. His skin is cold from the wind and damp from the sea spray, but she can tell from his voice just how happy he is to be here, skippering his yacht around Long Island. And if he's happy, then - despite the bitter November weather - so is she.

"It's great," she replies honestly, finding his bare hands and covering them with her gloved ones. "It's so beautiful out here."

"Isn't it?" He squeezes her even tighter, kissing his way along her jaw until she looks at him again and he can kiss her lips. "Mmm. It's so beautiful right here, too."

She can't stop a huge smile from blossoming on her face. It's one of those moments where she really _feels_ her love for him; where it's physical as well as emotional. After their delicious morning sex, the excitement of twelve weeks and Fitz's thoughtful gifts to her, she's not surprised that she's falling for him all over again today. Plus, she's _really_ excited to tell all their friends later this evening, who are currently sailing on The Georgiana with them, many making up Fitz's crew. Abby, Henry, James, Quinn and Charlie all grew up around boats and they certainly look the part, dressed in their Nautica and J. Crew apparel, handling the enormous yacht with ease. Olivia feels strangely proud to see them working together, her friends and Fitz's. They are one big family now, with Cyrus, Harrison, Kelsey, Huck and Kim as well, plus Stephen, Mark and Annabel in the UK.

"Our baby is so lucky," she says to Fitz now, her voice quiet with the threat of tears. "We have such amazing people around us, don't we? Our son or daughter will be so loved."

Fitz turns her in his embrace, his expression one of surprise when he sees how choked up she's getting, and hugs her into the warmth of his body. "Don't cry Livvie," he says close to her ear, his voice incredulous, full of wonder. "You're so silly, sweet baby."

She laughs against his chest as a tear falls from the corner of her eye. "I know. I think it's just…" She sighs, gazing up into his eyes again. They look grayer today, reflecting the sky and the sea. "I feel like we've been fighting so many problems alone, and suddenly we're surrounded by this whole group of friends who will support us and love us. I don't think I could ask for a better family."

His face softens and she can tell how touched he is by that thought too. "We did the right thing, didn't we?" he asks rhetorically. "Coming together, uniting all these awesome people. I've never doubted it, but every day it just feels more and more right. You know?"

"I do," she nods, reaching up to press her lips to his. He holds her there for ages, savoring her with sweet little kisses, until someone calls his name from across the deck and they're forced to break apart.

"Are we heading back to the marina soon?" Abby shouts, and Olivia turns to find that every single person is looking at them with raised eyebrows and not-so-subtle smirks. It's so easy to forget that most of them have only seen her and Fitz together once before, and that the way they are together - unashamedly cute and totally smitten - is still a novelty.

Fitz just doesn't care though. He kisses her again and then grins mischievously at her before he finally moves away. "Yeah, let's go. I'm getting hungry. Right, Henry and Quinn, you take starboard…"

Olivia watches him in his captain's role, instructing his crew with such authority, and feels her center starting to heat up. He is so sexy, so confident, and she lets her imagination wander: she's taking him beneath deck and being lifted into his arms, pressed into the wall, her head falling back as his teeth graze her neck…

… And two hours later, that's exactly where she finds herself.

Inside the master cabin where they're supposed to be getting changed for dinner, she's rapidly losing all control as Fitz repeatedly flexes his hips, grinding his erection against her core through their jeans, his fingers hastily unbuttoning her shirt and his mouth following the same path.

 _"_ _Ohh,"_ she moans when he tugs down her bra cups and his wet tongue swirls around her left nipple. She feels like she's melting, hot liquid filling her insides, her breath catching and toes curling.

And then there's a knock at the door.

He doesn't hear it the first time, and she has to stop him. "Fitz. Fitz!"

He looks up at her, eyes heavy with desire. "What?"

There's another knock. "Hey Liv, are you in there?"

It's Abby.

Fitz blinks, and seems to come back to his senses. "Fuck. What does she want?"

"I don't know yet, do I?"

Olivia lowers her feet back to the floor but he keeps her captive between his muscular body and the wood-paneled wall. "Ignore her. She'll go away."

He tries to kiss her again and she lets him for a moment, swept up in his desire for her. But she knows Abby is fully aware that they're both in the bedroom together and if she doesn't answer the door, her friend will know _exactly_ what they're up to.

"Stop, baby. I'll just be a minute."

Reluctantly, he lets her go. He sits on the bed, facing away to hide his very obvious state of arousal, and pretends to play on his phone. Olivia quickly refastens her shirt and finally answers the door to her friend, who's already wearing her cocktail dress for the dinner on board - which starts in less than an hour.

"Hey Abs. You look great."

"Thanks. You look… not even remotely ready."

She tries to peek over Olivia's shoulder, clearly expecting to see a messy bed and possibly Fitz in some state of undress. Instead, she looks disappointed when he just glances up and says hello.

"Oh, hey Fitz. Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if you brought straighteners with you Liv? The wind has ruined my hair."

"Yeah, of course." She opens her small travel bag and hands them to Abby.

"Thanks."

"Is everyone alright? You've all got enough space to change, you've found the drinks fridge and the bar?"

"We're fine, don't worry about us." She gives Olivia a pointed look. "I'm not sure if it's still cool to be late to your own party though."

Olivia laughs as she starts to close the door. "We won't be late. See you soon."

Seconds later she's climbing onto Fitz's lap, gazing adoringly into his eyes. "Now, where were we?"

He lets her kiss him but she can sense immediately that his fire has gone out.

"You okay?" she inquires, running her fingertips through his curls.

"Yeah. I think the moment has passed, though. We should really get ready."

She frowns. Despite Abby's interruption, she still wants him - _now_. "We have time, baby. We can be quick."

Undoing a couple of shirt buttons, this time she takes it off over her head and throws it to the floor. Then she stands in front of him and peels off her jeans, before her bra and panties join the discarded pile too. Fortunately there's heating on the yacht, and the small cabin is toasty and warm.

She takes his hands and places them on her bare hips; he slides them around to her ass, bringing his face to her belly, kissing her. Then he sighs.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Don't you want me?"

"Of course I do." His dark eyes meet hers again and he stands too, pulling her into his body so she can feel the strength of his renewed erection. It's certainly impressive.

She begins to unfasten his belt and he allows it, even as he continues to speak. "I think I'm being a bad host, though. I should be out there entertaining our guests, not in here ignoring them."

Olivia understands what he's saying, but as soon as she has his warm, hard cock in her hand, his skin so smooth beneath her palm, she really doesn't care.

"If you stop talking," she suggests, kneeling in front of him, "We can get out there sooner."

He fills her mouth. The way he jerks, his groan, his hands coming to rest on her head, all make her feel like the most powerful woman in the world. If there's ever a way to convince a man to do anything… it's a blowjob.

They are quick, in the end. Quick and fucking _incredible_.

He doesn't let her stay down on her knees too long, and from his racing heart and furious kisses as he pulls her onto the bed, she knows exactly why. He bends her legs all the way up to her chest as he thrusts into her, long and slow, massaging her G spot, gazing straight into her soul. She feels his hand move around her thigh and he presses on the sensitive skin of her perineum, putting pressure on her anus, which is not something she's ever experienced before but _fuck,_ it feels so amazing that she's instantly right on the edge, and so is he, seeing what he's doing to her, gauging whether it's okay to continue.

When she nods, when he slips his finger inside her, it's such an entirely new sensation that she comes instantly. Her sudden cry is so loud that he catches it in his mouth and then starts to come too, pounding into her, and this feeling of fullness is so much more than she'd ever dreamed possible, and sweet, _so_ sweet, she doesn't know how she'll ever breathe normally again.

Even when Fitz finally pulls out of her, he sends aftershocks slamming through her body. She's vaguely aware of him asking if she's okay and then leaving her, followed by the sound of the shower in the tiny ensuite bathroom. It feels like a long time until she can move, until she can focus on her surroundings and even contemplate sitting up. By that time he's back with a towel around his waist, smiling as he sits beside her, cradling her face in his hands.

"Hi Livvie. I take it that was good?"

Her voice seems to have abandoned her. How much noise did she make? It's quite cramped down here below deck, and she suspects the wooden walls are pretty thin. Oh well. There's no way in hell she'd ever regret what just happened.

"Can you speak, baby?"

She shakes her head and he laughs. "Well, you look like a _very_ satisfied woman, so I'm gonna take it that you enjoyed yourself."

"I did," she finally manages to whisper. "Fuck. That was the most… I've never felt… Fitz. My god."

Her incoherency seems to charm him and he kisses her tenderly, his hands gently caressing her breasts, his palm eventually coming to rest on her abdomen. "I love you," he says, his mouth barely leaving hers.

Her gaze finds his, close and intense, and she realizes that they have a new connection now, a new secret. Even thinking about it makes her feel so naughty. She can't wait to try it again, to be transported back to that higher level of pleasure, to explore it with him.

"I'm sorry to break it to you," Fitz is saying quietly, "But we really need to get ready."

And, finally, she's back in the present.

"Shit. What time is it?"

"About six forty. Go get in the shower, quick."

The hot spray feels heavenly. Even though she washes as fast as she can, by the time she's finished Fitz is already dressed in a smart black suit and white shirt, applying cologne in front of the mirror.

"I'm gonna go and play host," he says, pressing a kiss to her lips and then bending down, lifting her towel, kissing her belly. "Are you ready?"

Her heart flutters. She'd momentarily forgotten the aim of tonight's meal: to share their news; to stand proudly in her truth.

"I'm ready."

He smiles at her. "Good. Me too. See you out there shortly, then."

"Okay. Love you."

Her dress feels tighter than it did a week ago, when she went shopping. It's orange, a striking color on her, with thin straps and a low neckline. It clings to her every curve, which is kind of the point: it highlights her baby bump, but also her growing boobs. It's not something she would usually wear to a dinner party with friends - it's pretty sexy, really - but she wants to show off the body that is growing her child for the very first time and she loves to dress up for Fitz, especially because they haven't been able to go out on any dates recently. Anyway, everyone has seen her in skimpy dresses before, on red carpets and in photographs. She's not embarrassed or ashamed. She's confident in her own skin - especially now, when she's going to become a mommy.

She quickly applies her makeup and attempts to tame her hair, which has been in a braid all day and is pretty wild when she unfastens it. She applies product and tips her head upside down, gathering her curls into a high ponytail and tying them there. Finally, she puts on her perfume and heels and checks herself one last time in the mirror.

"Ready to meet your family, little one?" she asks, admiring her small bump. "They are going to love you so much. Right… let's go."

* * *

She's only ten minutes late, which isn't bad considering she was recovering from the best orgasm of her life. She joins the whole group in the yacht's entertaining area, where the dining table has been extended to seat twelve and everyone is mingling alongside it, drinking Champagne. They're moored back in the marina and the yacht club is providing catering, with the food due to be brought out at seven thirty. She and Fitz are planning to make their announcement after the main course - unless everyone realizes sooner. It's quite thrilling to be on display, to hug and kiss her friends and wonder if they'll notice, if their eyes are attuned to the changes she's so constantly aware of.

Fitz is behind the bar, opening another bottle of bubbles. He looks completely stunned when he sees her, his gaze roaming over her from head to toe and then back again, focusing in on her chest, on her waist.

"Wow," he says, abandoning what he's doing to come over to her, to take her into his arms. "You look sensational."

He kisses her and she's glad she opted for clear lipgloss instead of any color. "Mm. You don't scrub up too badly yourself."

He smiles as he ducks his head, kissing her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. "I think we may have gotten ourselves into trouble," he murmurs.

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone heard you. I can see it in their eyes."

His low voice near her ear, combined with his lips on her sensitive skin, is making it hard for her to concentrate.

"Well," she sighs, her fingers digging in to his biceps, "It was your fault."

"Really? You're blaming me? I guess I won't do it ever again then…"

She can feel his hands low on her back, moving closer to her ass, reminding her so viscerally of the newest part of her body he's just become acquainted with, and the mind-blowing effect it had on the rest of her.

"Oh, you will," she breathes, her core beginning to throb at the thought of it. "You _definitely_ will."

"Fitzgerald, get your hands off my woman!"

They're separated by James, which is probably for the best. He hugs her tightly, then looks her up and down. "Absolutely _stunning_ ," he remarks. "You get more beautiful every time I see you. How is that fair?"

She blushes, an effect he always seems to have on her with his gushing compliments. "Thank you."

"Fitz, I hope you know how special this girl is."

His eyes meet hers, shining with so much love. "I do, believe me."

James looks between them both, grinning. "Okay, you two are even cuter together than you were at Halloween. I can't handle it. I need another drink."

"I've just opened a bottle," Fitz says, taking James's glass from him to refill it.

"Good man. Liv, you're empty handed. What are you drinking?"

She immediately glances at Fitz, who seems a little panicked. He was supposed to have her a glass of grape juice ready, to pretend it was Champagne, but he'd obviously forgotten all about it when he laid eyes on her.

"I'm... not," she answers eventually, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Oh. Still detoxing?"

And then his gaze travels over her again and his eyes narrow suspiciously as he focuses in on her abdomen. Her pulse misses a beat: _he knows_. By the time he looks at her again, the biggest smile is already curving her lips.

"No," she answers simply.

His mouth falls open in shock. Fitz, who has been watching the whole scene, is smiling just as hard as she is. Sharing their baby news is the _best_ feeling.

"Holy fuck, Liv! You're-"

She shushes him, pulling him further away from the crowd. "Don't shout it!"

"You're pregnant?" he whispers instead, and she nods with unexpected tears in her eyes. "Oh my god. Congratulations!"

He hugs her again. It really is so great to have him back in her life. Then he reaches across the bar to Fitz, shaking his hand. "Congrats, man. Wow."

"Thank you."

"You know," James goes on as Olivia sees Fitz finally opening up the grape juice and pouring her a glass, "I suspected you might be at Halloween, when you refused the wine."

"Really?"

"I spent the first five years of my career in entertainment journalism. You develop a sense for these kinds of things."

"Well, you were right."

"And I've never been gladder. Oh my god! This is so exciting. How far along are you? Oh, this explains why your boobs look incredible too. It all makes perfect sense."

Olivia laughs as he rambles on. "I'm twelve weeks today," she says, and then continues before he guesses correctly again: "And yes, that's the reason behind this dinner. We're going to tell everyone during the meal, unless they all figure it out like you have."

"I doubt that," James says smugly. "You could be six months pregnant in front of Cy and I don't think he'd notice, bless him."

"Do I hear my name taken in vain?"

Cyrus joins them and Fitz rounds the bar, passing out glasses. "Can I tell him?" James asks excitedly, and Olivia couldn't say no even if she wanted to.

"Tell me what?"

"There's a baby in this room, Cy!"

He looks around, frowning. "Where?"

The three of them can't help but laugh. "No, you idiot," James says affectionately. "Inside Liv. She's pregnant!"

It seems to take Cyrus several moments to process the news. "She's… You're… _What?"_

"Your boss knocked me up," she confirms solemnly, but she can't hide her grin for long.

Cyrus stares at Fitz, who puts his arm around his friend's shoulders. "I know you're gay, Cy, but didn't anyone _ever_ teach you about the birds and the bees? Men and women make babies together, and they grow inside the woman's uterus until-"

"I know, I know," he finally interrupts, shaking himself back to life. "Holy hell, Fitz. Are you serious?"

"Very."

He gestures to Olivia, who looks down and turns sideways, showing off the little swell of her belly. The next thing she knows, a very emotional Cyrus is embracing her boyfriend and gripping onto her hand at the same time, drawing her towards them.

"I am… _so_ pleased for you," he says to Fitz, who seems both touched and taken aback by this show of affection. "I know how much this means to you, boss. And you, Olivia." He turns to her, admiring her like he's never seen her before. "Congratulations. Thank you for making this man so happy. He deserves it more than anyone I know."

"He does," she echoes softly, as Fitz draws her against his side and kisses her temple.

"A toast," James proffers, completing their circle. "To Liv and Fitz, and this crazy adventure you're both about to go on."

"To Liv and Fitz."

"To us."

James pulls her aside afterwards, asking all sorts of questions, wondering how pregnant she'll be at their wedding and what kind of outfit she might wear. She hadn't even thought that far ahead. After a few minutes Henry appears, rescuing her from several scary thoughts (what _will_ she wear to a wedding when she's eight months pregnant?).

"Henry, this is James, Cyrus's fiancé. James, Henry, Fitz's… landlord?"

Henry laughs. "I like that. I mean, we're old friends too, but I like that I have power over him now."

"Great to meet you," James says warmly, shaking his hand. He looks at Olivia, asking with his eyes: _does he know? Can we talk about it?_

"James has just figured out our secret," she confirms, smiling at both men.

"Ah, excellent. I came over here to compliment you on how gorgeous you look, and now I don't even need to be subtle."

"Are you ever?" she wonders aloud, and he laughs again.

"Not really. But I mean it, Liv. Pregnancy really suits you."

"Aw, thank you."

"And it explains why you two are having what is clearly some unbelievably good sex, judging by the noise you were making earlier. And the noise you make in my house, whenever you stay over."

Her cheeks flush, growing hot. Trust Henry to point out what everyone may be thinking, but at least most are too polite to say anything.

"Don't embarrass her," James says, coming to her defense, putting his arm around her waist. "You have all the incredible sex you want, sweetie. I mean, Fitz is a god among men. If I could, I would."

"Really?" Henry asks skeptically. "Are we talking about the same guy? He's definitely no god. I, on the other hand…"

Olivia can't roll her eyes hard enough. Fortunately, she's rescued from the conversation by the arrival of Fitz himself, who excuses them both and takes her aside. He pins her gently to the bar, gazing at her so lovingly. His happiness is radiating from him like a glow.

"This is amazing," he sighs, outlining her face with the tip of his finger, tilting her chin up so he can kiss her. "I knew it would feel good, like when we told Henry, but to see Cy and James so thrilled for us too…"

"I love your friends," she tells him, slipping her hand beneath his jacket, around to rest on his lower back.

"Even Henry?" he asks with a smirk. She wonders if he overheard some of their conversation.

"Ugh. He's a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's alright."

"I think he likes Abby, you know."

"Really?"

"He barely kept his eyes off of her earlier. And his hands, whenever he got chance to 'help her' with whatever she was doing - despite the fact she's a far better sailor than he is."

"Wow. I'll chat to her, see what she thinks."

Fitz smiles. "He is a great guy. He'd be really good to her."

"I know. Not as great as you though."

"Oh yeah?"

She nuzzles her nose against his. "Yeah. There's no one else in the world I'd want to father my baby."

He inhales, holding her even closer. "God, Livvie. When you say things like that, it makes me feel… I can't even explain it. Like it's all new, all over again. I get this huge burst of excitement and emotion. My heart is racing right now - can you feel it?"

She moves her hand to his chest. "Wow. Yeah, I can."

They're quiet for a while, sharing such powerful, intense feelings. "I know I've said it before," Fitz murmurs eventually, "But thank you for saying yes. Thank you for giving me the chance to be someone's daddy, Olivia. Words won't ever be enough, but I have to try. I have so much love and gratitude for you, I just can't keep it all inside."

She could cry; she really could. Instead she fights it, knowing tonight is not just about them but about their friends too, who are here to have a drink and a good time together. And so she kisses him, her fingers curling into his hair, her body rising up into his, until she's so breathless she feels dizzy.

Then she walks away with nothing but a smile, a whispered _"I love you"_ , hoping he understands that she needs a minute to calm down, to stop herself falling apart.

As she nears the steps which lead up onto the deck, there's a knock at the door. Abby is closest, and answers it. "Are you ready for dinner service?" one of the wait staff from the yacht club asks, and Abby repeats the question loudly to the group.

"Yes!" is the resounding response.

"Okay, please take your seats," Fitz announces, and there's a flurry of movement.

Abby catches her eye and frowns. "Are you alright, Liv?"

She takes her friend's hand, leading her from the main room and into the narrow corridor where the bedrooms are. "What's wrong?"

She leans against the wall, tilting her head back, closing her eyes. "Nothing's wrong," she says quietly. "Sometimes it's just a bit… overwhelming."

 _Don't cry_.

"What is? Your pregnancy? Fitz? The fact he owns this fucking spectacular yacht?"

Olivia can't help but laugh. "All of those things, yes. But mainly the pregnancy part."

"Are you scared?"

"A little." She glances at Abby, who looks worried. "Mostly it's that I don't know how I can love this baby any more than I do now. I don't know how I can love Fitz any more than I do now. I don't know how anyone has the capacity to love _so much_."

Abby doesn't seem to know what to say. It's never been clearer just how different their lives are right now. "Well," she begins eventually, "I can't possibly understand how you're feeling, but I love you. I love seeing you so ridiculously happy. I love that you're here and not afraid to show us how you're feeling, even though you know it's all happened so fast and a lot of people might judge you for that. We won't judge you, Liv. We love you - a _hell_ of a lot."

"Oh my god," Olivia breathes, "I was trying so hard not to cry. Damn you, Abigail."

Abby grins and pulls her into a hug. "You're so fricking sentimental these days. It's almost a bit disgusting."

"It's my hormones."

"No it's not. It's you being happy, and in love. It's sweet."

"Ugh. Did you just call me sweet?"

"Maybe. Don't tell anyone, though."

"Promise."

They link their pinky fingers, something stupid they've been doing since their first days together at Yale, and it makes them both giggle.

"Now, are you ready to stop crying and come get some food? I'm starving."

"Wait. I wanted to ask you about Henry."

For the first time in a _long_ time, Olivia actually catches her friend blushing. "What about him?"

"Nothing," she smirks. "Your face just told me everything I needed to know."

She begins to walk away, back to the dinner, but Abby stops her. "Do you think he likes me too?" She's trying to be casual but it's clear she is genuinely interested in him.

"I _know_ he likes you. Fitz said so too. It's pretty obvious."

"But he's so much older than me."

"He's two years younger than Fitz, and you're a year older than me. So that takes your age gap to ten years."

"It sounds like a lot."

Olivia smiles. "It's not. If you want to be with someone who will respect you, who will treat you just as you deserve, then you can't go wrong with Henry. But you'll have to learn to put up with his awful jokes."

Abby makes a face. "Like, dad jokes?"

"And worse."

"Shit. I don't know if I can."

Olivia hugs her again. "Love makes you do all sorts of things you never thought you could."

"Okay, you are officially disgusting."

"I know. And I don't care."

* * *

The food is delicious, each course served by a team of wait staff who quickly disappear again, leaving them to their privacy. Fitz asks them to wait a while longer before bringing dessert, and eventually it seems like the right time to make their announcement to the half of the group who are still in the dark.

He stands up and silence falls along the table. Abby takes her hand beneath the table and squeezes it tight.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," he begins. "Old friends of Olivia's, old friends of mine, and now new friends of us both. We feel so lucky to have you here, to have had such a great day sailing with you."

"Anytime," Charlie pipes up, raising his glass. "We feel lucky to get to sail on this beauty."

There's a murmur of agreement.

"Well, you're always welcome," Fitz continues genuinely. "Anyway, before I tell you all the real reason we're here tonight, Olivia and I just wanted to present a gift to Abby, who has recently done something truly amazing for us."

Olivia turns to her best friend with a smile, who looks completely stunned. Henry brings out an enormous bunch of flowers and a card, which Fitz gives to her with a kiss on each cheek.

"You really shouldn't have," she says, sitting back down, leaning in to Olivia's embrace. "It was nothing."

"It was everything. Thank you."

There are a few curious glances around the table, but Fitz is speaking again, changing the subject. "I don't want to give a huge speech-"

"But you're going to anyway," Henry interrupts dryly, to much laughter.

"I wasn't," Fitz chuckles, "But I might do now, just for you. No, seriously. Olivia and I didn't meet very long ago, but I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I just knew, instantly, that she was The One. And I'm not sure, but I think she might feel the same way about me."

He gazes down at her with a smile and, unsurprisingly, her eyes are glassy with tears. "I do," she sniffs, taking his hand. "You all know I do."

She stands up, recognizing that this is the moment. "The reason we organized this dinner party is because…" _Deep breath._ "I am twelve weeks pregnant today."

She looks into Fitz's eyes and suddenly she's laughing, and he's shouting, "We're having a baby!" and everyone is on their feet, those who knew clapping and cheering and those who didn't with their hands over their mouths, shocked but smiling, unable to resist the infectious joy spreading around the table.

"Liv!" Quinn reaches her first, throwing her arms around her. "Oh my god, congratulations! I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I," she beams.

She gets hugs from everyone, most of whom want to check out her bump, the girls cooing and even some of the guys getting emotional (Huck in particular, who is like her older brother). The only person who isn't completely blown away is Harrison.

"Have you thought about this, Liv?" he asks seriously after congratulating her with a hesitant smile.

"No, I haven't thought about it at _all_ ," she says sarcastically. "Of course I have. I've been worried about it since the day I found out. That's why Fitz came to see you the other week, because he knew how stressful it's been for me. But I'm really, _really_ happy Harri. And I'm scared too, but with Fitz, and with you, I know we'll be okay."

"Okay. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters." This time his smile is real. "You'll be a really great mom, Liv. We need to make plans soon though - you're already showing."

"I know. Let's do it this week, but not now, okay?"

"Sure. Whatever you want. I work for you, remember?"

"Not tonight. Tonight you're my friend." They share a hug. "Now tell me how it's going living with Kelsey. She looks beautiful tonight, by the way…"

Later, after dessert and so many toasts she's lost count, when people are dancing and drinking Irish coffees, Fitz wraps her in his enormous windproof coat and takes her up onto the deck. It's freezing cold but at least the clear sky gives them a perfect view of the stars.

"I'm so happy I could burst," she tells him gleefully as they stand on the bow of the boat, pressed as close together as physically possible.

"Me too. It's been a perfect day."

"With my perfect man."

She kisses him for a long time, until the only thing that's warm is his mouth on hers and still she doesn't want to go back inside. And then, just as she's decided that they're going to leave the party and head to their cabin where they're spending the night, their phenomenal evening is shattered into a million pieces.

"Don't turn around," Harrison says suddenly, making them both jump. He sounds calm but Olivia immediately senses danger. "Just keep your faces away from the shore and come downstairs. Now."

"Why? What's going on?"

Fitz grips her hand, hard, but follows Harrison's instructions and doesn't look behind him.

"There's a photographer on the marina. I just spotted him, but god knows how long he's been there. He might have taken a hundred photos of you two already."

"The fucking paparazzi," Olivia hisses, absolutely furious that they've ruined her night - and possibly her life, too.

"It's not the paparazzi," Fitz says quietly, and she's alarmed to see he's even angrier than she is.

"We don't know who it is yet-" Harrison begins as he opens the door for them, but Fitz interrupts him, his voice as harsh and sharp as broken glass.

"I do. It's Mellie. It's my _fucking_ wife."

* * *

 ** _A/N 2: Yes, I know you're waiting for her downfall. It is coming... next time._**


	26. What's Most Important To You?

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Thank you for sticking with my story. If it wasn't already so damn long, I'd probably call this chapter the end of Act One.**

 **As it is, I'm going to put it on a small hiatus. I have professional exams to take next year which I need to start working for now. I'm going to try and give myself a couple of hours to write whenever I can, and hopefully I will post small updates or more 'interludes'. There is so much more of this story to tell, scenes I wrote right back at the beginning which we're not even close to yet. So please stick by me if you can! I will always try and write for you as long as you want to read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26 - What's Most Important To You?**

Downstairs, everything quickly turns to chaos as the news spreads. They're all acutely aware of how damaging it would be for Olivia if their relationship was exposed now, in such an unpredictable and uncontrolled way. Fitz is on the phone trying to get through to his wife, pacing around, fuming. She's never seen him like this before and it's terrifying. Harrison has started to call as many media outlets as he can think of, asking for a heads up if any of them hear word of photos of her for sale; James is doing the same with both local and national newspapers.

It's so loud, and everyone is panicking around her, and it's too much - she bursts into tears. Abby and Henry are immediately by her side, helping her to her feet, escorting her away from the noise, down the corridor to her bedroom.

"It's going to be fine," Abby keeps saying, rubbing her back as they sit down on the bed. "We're all here to help you, Liv. We'll protect you."

And all she can think is: _what about my dad? What happens when goes online tomorrow morning to read the news, and finds out his daughter is dating a married man?_

Somehow, between sobs, she manages to verbalize this to Abby and Henry.

"Hey," Henry says firmly, "They won't know it's Fitz. It's far too dark to identify him."

"They m-might be able to identify h-him by his yacht," she hiccoughs, drawing in great big breaths as she tries to calm herself down. It doesn't work. The tears just start all over again.

"How would the paparazzi even know you were here?" Abby wonders, passing her another pile of tissues. "None of us would have tipped them off."

"Maybe it is Mellie," Henry says thoughtfully. "I'm guessing she and Fitz have a joint membership here. Maybe she heard he was planning something tonight. We already know she's suspicious he's seeing you."

"Does it even matter who it is?" Olivia asks miserably. "If the photos are sold they're out there, in public."

"Maybe Harrison can get them back for you. He seems to know what he's doing."

"Mmm."

There's a knock at the door. It's the man himself.

"Hey Liv, who is Fitz's lawyer?"

She gazes up at Harrison who's in full-on business mode, barely noticing her state of distress. "Why?"

"If it is Mellie, we need to nail her into this divorce and NDA before she has chance to do anything with the photos."

"She's called Jemima King. I can't remember the name of the firm. But it's Sunday night - she won't be working."

"She will, if we pay her enough." His voice softens at her look of total incomprehension. It's all too overwhelming. "Let me sort this Liv, okay? This is my job. Trust me."

"Okay."

His reassurance doesn't make her feel any better though. She can't get the image of Fitz out of her mind, of the pure anger on his usually-handsome face. It turned him into a complete stranger. He seems a million miles away from her right now, in a place she can't reach him. If it really is Mellie who's responsible, then it's his business and his alone. She won't get involved, even though she wants to scratch that woman's eyes out for trying so hard to destroy the man she loves so much.

She takes a deep breath and flops back onto the bed. Abby asks Henry to go and check on Fitz, to see if he'll come in. Then she lies beside her friend, taking her hand.

"What's most important to you, Olivia?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question."

Olivia stares at the low wooden ceiling. "My baby. Having a home, with Fitz, where we can raise our child together. And having all our friends around us, and my dad-" That makes her choke up.

"What about your work?"

She thinks hard for a while. "I love what I do. I've always wanted to help people, and once you've started, once you've seen how you can make change, you never want to stop. There's always more to give, always more people in need."

Abby turns to gaze at her. "Do you really think those are the words of someone the whole world will turn on?"

Olivia doesn't answer. Logically, of course she doesn't think that. But in her heart, in her head where she stores up all the bad things anyone's ever said about her, from kids in the schoolyard when she was seven years old to national magazines who've commented on her weight, who've questioned her dedication to charity work, calling her 'fame-hungry' - deep down inside, her emotions rule. Especially now, when she's so deeply in love and her pregnancy hormones are having such sweeping, unquantifiable effects on her body.

"You will always have a home with Fitz," Abby tells her after a short silence. "You will always have money, even if you don't work. You'll always have us. And as for your dad - I think you'll always have him too, Liv. He loves you so much. Can you imagine ever turning your back on your own child?"

"Of course not." The idea is incomprehensible.

"Well then. Even if things change for you, if you do have to lie low for a while, you will always have the things - the people - you care about most."

Olivia looks at her oldest, closest friend. "I love you, Abby. How did you get so wise?"

"Hey, I've always been wise. I'm like an owl." She frowns. "But a sexy one."

Olivia laughs, the first joy she's felt in what seems like hours. "You're a sexy owl? Right."

"Who's a sexy owl?"

It's Henry, entering the bedroom again. Abby flushes.

"No one," she says quickly. "Where's Fitz?"

"He's coming. Can I get you anything Liv? A drink, a tea, a hot chocolate?"

"A tea would be nice. Thank you."

"Abby, can you help me?"

It's not subtle but she appreciates him giving her and Fitz some space. "Thank you, Abs. You're the best."

"I know."

Olivia is still lying on her back when Fitz finally comes in, sometime later. She doesn't open her eyes. She's not sure she wants to see him, to witness that rage on his face ever again. She hears him closing the door, moving around the room, taking off his jacket and his watch. Then he seems to stand very still for a while, just looking at her. Finally, the bed shifts with his weight and he comes to lie beside her, pressed up close, his hand on her abdomen and his warm breath on her cheek.

"Livvie," he murmurs. He nudges her with his nose, his thumb brushing back and forth over her belly. Just feeling him there, so near and so loving, is making it difficult for her to breathe. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And then a sob cracks her chest wide open, sudden and raw. She turns into him, burying her face in his neck, her body shattering in his arms. It's painful, feeling this much. She can't inhale and she can't empty out her lungs enough either. She's suffocating.

"Oh baby," Fitz is saying, over and over. He sounds distraught; horrified. "Ssh, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. I love you. It's alright, I promise."

He tries to draw back, to look at her, but she clings to him for dear life. This is the only place she feels safe enough to fall apart. This is the only way she knows she'll be put back together again, right at the very end.

It's a long time until she's cried herself out. Fitz is there through it all, as solid as a rock. He tells anyone who knocks to leave them alone, and even ignores incoming text messages which she eventually realizes might actually be important.

"Your phone," she says groggily, finally removing her wet face from his very wet shoulder. They're the first words she's uttered to him and he laughs, confused.

"What?"

She turns away and sits up, wiping tears from beneath her eyes, blowing her nose. She's embarrassed to look at him, now he's seen her at her very worst.

"You got some texts," she explains quietly. Her head is pounding. "Do you want to check them?"

He moves to kneel on the floor in front of her, taking her wrists, trying to get her to make eye contact with him. It's so reminiscent of the first time he told her he loved her, on the day she discovered she was pregnant, that for a moment she feels confused, like it's the same night all over again and no time has passed at all. How is it possible that those first few days feel infinitely simpler now, compared to what they're facing tonight?

"Olivia, look at me. Please."

He sounds so desperate that she has no choice. The bleakness in his blue eyes, the undisguised fear, makes the world fall away from beneath her. He can tell her it's all going to be fine but he can't hide from her - not now, not ever.

"What's happening?" she asks, dreading the answer. She feels like she wants to throw up.

"Nothing yet," he sighs, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm so sorry I scared you. But I'm even more sorry you had to go through that just now. It was unbearable. It broke my fucking heart, Liv."

"I'm sorry," she breathes, feeling a fresh wave of sadness threatening to sweep over her.

"God, don't be. I'm the one apologizing, not you. This is my fucking mess."

"Is it her?"

"I'm sure it is. Not the photographer - Harrison thinks it was a man - but I'm sure she paid him. And she's not answering her phone. I've tried her parents, friends. No one wants to help me get in touch with her, of course, because they all know I've left her."

"Why does she want pictures of us?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. But when I find out, when I get a hold of her, I'm going to-" He stands up suddenly and starts pacing. "I want to kill her," he admits. "I actually want to strangle her. What is her fucking problem? How could she do this to you?"

Olivia gets up too, following him, backing him into the wall. He's scaring her again and she won't let it happen this time. "You don't want to kill her."

"I do."

"But you don't mean it, right? Tell me you don't mean it."

He visibly deflates beneath her fierce, frightened gaze. "No, of course I don't mean it. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

"Sorry."

He chances a small smile; it's so sweet, she can't help but smile too.

"We're going to be okay," he says seriously. Is he trying to convince her, or himself? "You, me and the baby. There's a room full of people out there, frantically trying to help us in any way they can."

"A boatful," she corrects. "A boatful of people."

"That sounds like a lot, doesn't it?" he chuckles, resting his forehead against hers.

"It does. A lot of amazing people."

"Agreed."

They hold each other for a long time, centering themselves once again. Olivia is glad she got all her emotions out of the way, however horrible it felt at the time, because she feels so much more clear-headed now.

"Shall we go out there and face the world again?" she asks at length. "I need to talk to Harrison, to find out what his plan is."

"Okay. You might want to freshen up first, though. _I_ think you're beautiful with mascara all down your neck, but I don't know if everyone else will."

She can't help but laugh, so relieved their light-heartedness is back. "Thank you, Fitzy. I won't be a minute."

After she's washed her face, she pulls on a sweater and a pair of leggings beneath her dress. Fitz leads the way back to the dining area where most of their friends are on their phones, talking animatedly. He pulls out a seat for her next to Harrison, who quickly ends his own call.

"What are they all doing?" she asks, gesturing around the table.

"They're phoning every internet site and blog they can find, hinting that you've been spotted in Long Island this evening. We're waiting for any of them to say, 'Yeah, we know.' So far, nothing." He turns to Fitz. "I think you're right. I think it is Mellie, actually. Nobody else could possibly know Olivia is here tonight."

"So, what's the plan?" Olivia inquires tentatively. "If it is… _her_."

"Well, I got a hold of Jemima King. She's finalizing the document which will split their assets as we speak."

"The original agreement," Fitz explains. Obviously he and Harrison have already discussed this. "She's not getting a cent more out of me than she's legally entitled to."

"Yep. And I've spoken to our legal department too, hurrying up the NDA. We're adding a clause about the photographs: that she hands ownership over to Fitz and cannot replicate nor sell them, etcetera.

"If she does try to sell them tonight," he goes on, "James and I have called in every favor we can with all the major magazines and papers. James will outbid any potential offers, or buy the pictures secondhand. Everyone thinks it's for a huge story he's running on you in the Times. I don't know if it will fly - I mean, it's the Times for Christ's sake - but if there's serious money involved, people soon find something else to print instead."

"Who's paying for-?"

"I am," Fitz interjects. "Whatever the price."

She raises her eyebrows. "Fitz-"

But he shuts her down. "Don't even try it, Olivia. I told you, it's my mess. Let me fix it."

She pouts, and he takes hold of her hand and laces their fingers together. "First thing tomorrow," he tells her, "I'm going to Jemima and Harrison's offices to collect the documents, then I'm driving to my old house to pick up the divorce papers and then straight to Mellie to get her goddamn signature on all of them. I should have done this on Friday night, as soon as we saw Abby's video. Then we wouldn't be here, desperately trying to regain the upper hand before it's too late."

"I think it's going to be okay." Harrison sounds cautiously optimistic. "We've covered every base I can think of. And if somehow the story does run tomorrow, Huck will hack into your father's computer and block any trace of it from appearing on the sites he looks at. It will at least buy you enough time to speak to him yourself."

Olivia releases a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She can't think of anything else to add.

"Harri, you're a lifesaver."

Someone taps her on the shoulder. It's Abby, holding the card they gave her earlier, her eyes wide with shock. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've just opened this. An all-inclusive week in Barbados? Liv, Fitz. _Thank you_ , but I can't accept it. It's too much."

"It's nowhere near enough," Fitz says. He sounds really tired all of a sudden. "You gave us the only way out of this, Abby. I'll send you on vacation every year for the rest of your life. I mean it."

"Seriously, stop." She looks so touched. Olivia stands up and hugs her.

"Maybe you can take a certain someone…?"

She looks at Henry, who is making his way towards them with her cup of tea. "Hey Liv. Are you okay? I didn't want to interrupt you and Fitz earlier, so I've just made you a fresh one."

"Thank you."

"Maybe," Abby says softly to Olivia, smiling at him.

The crisis seems to have brought them closer together; in fact, it's had that effect on the whole group. Quinn, Cyrus and Kim are sat talking quietly; James, Charlie, Kelsey and Huck are comparing notes on the people they've already phoned.

Fitz stands up and thanks everyone for all their hard work. "I think we'll drive back to the city tonight," he says, glancing at Olivia who nods. "If anyone else wants to stay on board and use our room, you're more than welcome."

"I hope they're gonna change the sheets," Olivia hears Henry mutter to Abby, who tries not to laugh.

"Likewise if anyone wants a lift back, we have space."

"Thank you for being here and celebrating with us," Olivia adds. "I'm sorry the night ended how it did."

Immediately, everyone protests. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry about," James says firmly. "It was a fantastic day. I think I speak for everyone when I say that you two are the cutest couple we know, and you will make the most amazing parents. Also, I'd like to put my name in for godfather right now, before anyone else does."

There's a lot of laughter, and some grumbling from Henry. "What about Mark, too?" she asks Fitz as they pack up their room. "We have a lot of great choices."

"We do. Definitely Mark, though. I should call him tomorrow, give him an update. Hopefully I can say that the papers are signed…"

Olivia squeezes him tightly. "I think you'll be able to, baby." Seeing her friends rallying around them has given her such a strong feeling that it will all turn out okay. Maybe it's blind faith; maybe it's naïve hope, just to make herself feel better. Either way, she's making a conscious decision to try and be positive, rather than dwelling on cruel anticipation and utter helplessness. "I think we might just be fine."

* * *

It's almost one o'clock on Monday afternoon by the time Fitz finally arrives at his wife's office, ready to confront her. He had a sleepless night, tossing and turning, remembering Olivia crying in his arms and wondering how he'd ever survive that if it happened again. He wasn't exaggerating when he told her it broke his heart: it hurt all night long, deep in his chest. It still aches now.

He was also constantly on edge, waiting for his phone to ring, expecting to hear that someone had offered the photos up for sale or that James hadn't been able to secure them. Every time he did manage to fall asleep he dreamed they were going to print, that every website in the world was covering the story, and he woke panicking, desperately refreshing his Google news search, finding nothing new each time but still paranoid, tense and restless.

Both exhausted, they missed their alarm and he finally woke an hour later than he'd intended, swearing as he rushed to get dressed, not even kissing Olivia goodbye before dashing out of Henry's house to his car. Then he felt awful and ran back inside again, to amend his mistake and tell her that he loved her. The hopeful smile on her beautiful face made it all worthwhile.

Unfortunately, he hit rush hour traffic heading in to the city, and when he eventually arrived at Jemima's office he was so late she was midway through a two-hour client meeting. Her poor assistant looked everywhere for the paperwork he needed, clearly slightly terrified by how anxious he was, but she couldn't find it. As it turned out, an hour of pacing up and down her office later, Jemima had stored them securely in her safe. Fitz read through the agreement as fast as he could, recognizing most of it from the first draft, trusting that his lawyer knew what she was doing. When it came to pay her, his card wouldn't work. He spent fifteen impatient minutes on the phone to his bank, who had put a lock on his account over the weekend for some unfathomable reason that even the help center manager couldn't explain to him.

"Sometimes these things just happen," was the only reason she gave, and he laughed to himself even as he hit his forehead against the wall. Of all the times for such a random event to occur, this was the _worst_ day possible. It felt like the universe was against him.

And that feeling continued for the rest of the morning.

There were roads closed enroute to Harrison's office due to an earlier collision; when he had the Non-Disclosure Agreement in his hand and tried to pay, his card was declined _again_. This time he didn't hold back with the bank and they cleared his payment within two minutes, offering profuse apologies, promising him the problem really was fixed this time and it wouldn't _ever_ happen again, and we're so sorry Sir, can we offer you fifty thousand airmiles in compensation for your trouble?

(He said yes, of course. He'd use them to take Olivia away from this whole mess, whether or not their plan worked out.)

On the way to his house, he called Mellie's assistant to check she was in work. He wasn't sure if she'd told any of her colleagues about their break up yet so he was vague, just wondering what time he might be able to see her for lunch. "Twelve thirty? Great, thanks Francesca. But don't tell her I'm coming, okay? I want to surprise her."

Inside their huge, cold house, a place he'd never wanted to set foot in again, he searched for the divorce papers for almost forty minutes. Every drawer, every cabinet, every file in her office - nothing. He'd assumed they would be here, as she clearly had no intention of doing anything with them anytime soon, and why would she keep them at work where someone might find them? He was about to give up, his heart sinking, wondering how he could get her to sign them today if he didn't know where they were, when he suddenly thought to check her closet. She had so many purses she changed them almost on a daily basis, and whenever a set of car keys went missing, they inevitably turned up inside the one she'd used the day before.

He actually shouted out when he found the manila envelope, sweet relief washing over him. _Finally_ , he had everything he needed. And still nothing from Harrison or James, still no whisper of the photos. This was going to be over. For the very first time, he actually believed it.

He phoned Olivia on his way to Mellie's office, detailing the whole fiasco. The sound of her laughter warmed his soul.

"Call me as soon as it's done," she instructed him. "I want to know the second you're mine, so I can remember it forever."

"I will, I promise."

"Okay. See you later. Good luck."

"Thanks Livvie. I love you."

"I love you too."

The adrenaline is pumping as he takes the elevator up to the law firm where Mellie works. Nobody really glances at him as he walks through the office, leading him to suspect they know nothing about their separation. Outside her door, he greets her assistant and knocks politely. He's late but, mercifully, she's still free. His heart is hammering against his ribs. All the anger he's been pushing down, trying to bury for Olivia's sake, is suddenly rearing its ugly head in a big way. How is he going to look at his wife and not throttle her? How can he be in the same room as her, knowing how abhorrently she's behaved towards him; knowing how much pain she's caused the woman he loves?

He almost wants to leave, to run away so he doesn't have to face her, so he's not tempted to do something really fucking stupid - but it's too late. The door opens and, with a deep breath, he steps inside.

She's stunned to see him, that's for sure. And just being near her, smelling her sickly perfume, listening to her voice as she says something inane, something like: _"What are you doing here? You need to make an appointment, you can't just-"_ gives him such a strong sense of resolve to _end this_ , once and for all, that he feels like he grows several inches taller.

"Sit down, Mellie."

He is absolutely furious with her, and she can tell immediately - but she doesn't obey.

"What? You can't come in here and-"

"I said _sit down!_ "

He's never felt so enraged before. He's trembling with it, his muscles tense, preparing him for a fight. She looks afraid. Hesitantly, keeping her eyes on him the whole time, she circles her desk and sits behind it.

"Are you going to-"

She starts to gesture to one of the chairs opposite but he strides forward, ignoring her, and puts his hands on her desk, leaning towards her. If it seems like he's threatening her, then good. He is.

"Why are you taking photographs of me?" he demands. His voice is loud, and cold. Powerful.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now answer the _fucking_ question!"

She stares at him. She's a lawyer, cool under pressure, but he has one advantage the courtroom lacks: he knows her. He can read her. And he can tell he's right, that he's caught her off guard - guilty as charged.

"I haven't taken any photographs of you, Fitzgerald."

"Don't be facetious, _Melody_. You paid someone to do it for you. My question is _why?_ "

She doesn't respond. He can sense her mind is racing, trying to think of a way out, but he has zero patience for her games - not when he's this close to being rid of her forever.

"Okay," he says, changing his tone, "Let me explain it to you, in case you've forgotten the details. Yesterday evening, a photographer spent some time taking pictures of me and Olivia Pope on my yacht. You sent him. Why? To sell to the press?"

She looks surprised. "I didn't get them to sell. I just wanted to know if my suspicions were correct."

Now it's his turn to be taken aback. "Your suspicions?"

"You were photographed with her that night in October. Then, the day you served me the divorce papers, you said her name on the phone and I wondered… I knew she was at the conference you went to in London. Is that when you met?"

Fitz doesn't answer. He's trying to figure out how all of that has led them to this point.

"I don't understand," he says slowly. "What does Olivia have to do with any of this? I asked you for a divorce. Our marriage was already over. I'd already left you."

"So it's true, then?"

"That I'm dating her? Yes, it's true. Although you obviously know that now, having seen those photos. How did you find out we were there, by the way?"

She smirks. "The club sent me an email last week, asking about catering. For the amount you pay them each year, they really need to sort their address book out."

"Mm, they do." Fitz thinks that might well be one of the last things they ever agree on. Then he steps back and begins to pace, trying to shift his brain into gear, to make this all make sense. "So what was your next move gonna be, Mel? What was your plan, after your _suspicions_ were confirmed?"

There's a pause. "I don't know," she admits. "I haven't had time to decide yet."

He explodes. All this stress, all the anguish of the previous evening, and she doesn't even know?

"To decide _what?_ " he yells, uncaring if the entire office can hear him. "Whether you're going to divorce me or force me to stay married to you forever? What kind of an insane choice is that? What is _wrong_ with you?"

He doesn't give her chance to reply. His anger is boiling inside him again, hotter and more violent than ever. "You know what? It doesn't matter." He slams the three documents he's been holding down in front of her. "Sign these."

She frowns. "What are they?"

"Oh, you know damn well what they are. And I'm going to give you one more choice, because I'm nice like that. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?"

He smiles. He was hoping she'd bite. "Well, let me see. It involves a junior member of your staff, a late night in the office one Saturday and a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen."

All the color drains from her face. _"What?"_ She's shaken. Fuck - it's going to work.

"Promising promotion in return for sex is illegal, Mel. Although I'm sure you know that, being senior associate in one of New York's largest firms."

"How do you-? I didn't- I wasn't being serious! It was just flirting."

"That's not how your victim saw it," Fitz shrugs. Maybe he could have been a lawyer too. It's quite fun, tearing a defendant apart. "And I don't think that's how your bosses will see it, either. I wonder what will happen to your chances for partner when they find out what you got up to right here in their office?"

She's gripping onto the edge of the desk, desperately trying to figure out if he's bluffing - if he really has evidence, if he really will use it against her - but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. He has the knowledge to ruin her career, and she's given him the motive. She's backed into a corner. What else can she do?

"I could tell them all right now," he goes on conversationally. "I could walk of this room and tell every single one of your colleagues. They know Jonathan, don't they? They must have worked with him. I could march out there and announce to the whole office how I left you, and how you got lonely and seduced a poor junior attorney when you were being paid out-of-hours rates to complete a company audit. And then I could add on the fact that I'm now dating Olivia Pope, that I've traded you in for a younger model - because I suspect that's what all this is really about, isn't it? It's about your vanity, Mellie. It's about your fragile little ego. It's about the fact you can't _bear_ the thought of me being happy when you're not."

He's being deliberately vicious now, and it feels _so_ good.

"What happens if I don't sign today…?" she starts to say, her voice small and shaky. But then she sighs. Her eyes fill with tears. She's defeated. She has finally realized there are no more pathetic excuses left; there's nowhere else to run. "Fine. _Fine_."

She spends several minutes skim-reading the documents, while Fitz sits down in a chair and watches her intently, barely believing that it's about to be over. Her eyes widen at the NDA, the gagging clause, but she doesn't even react when she sees how little he's giving her in the divorce.

And then, _finally_ , she signs all three of them.

She passes him her pen and slides the divorce papers across to him. He's so lightheaded with relief he can barely see what he's doing, but his signature joins hers on the final page and that's it. Their case will go to court and then… he'll be free.

"You were right," she says quietly as he starts to stand up. Every single piece of her armor has fallen aside now. He's broken her. "I was so afraid of being humiliated by you, by _her_ , that I wanted to get to you first."

"How? By rinsing me in the divorce?" Reluctantly, he sits down again. He wants nothing more than to leave this office and never look back, but he also knows that there are still questions he needs answering, ones which will stay with him forever if he doesn't ask her now. "Would a few extra million really have made you that happy?"

She shrugs. "No. But I thought it would hurt you. I wanted you to _hurt_ , Fitz. I wanted you to know how it felt."

"How what felt?"

She gazes away, and he realizes she's about to start crying. Seeing her this vulnerable is so embarrassing, it makes his skin crawl.

"How did we get here?" he asks, longing to look away but unable to, fascinated and repulsed by her in equal measure, like watching a really gory horror film. "We could have avoided all of this. I never set out to hurt you; all I wanted was to get out of a dead marriage. You pushed me to this, you made me play your dirty games, and I still don't understand why. Did you really want to stay married to me? Did you think we could possibly make it work?"

And then it dawns on him, as tears spill over her eyelashes and onto her pale cheeks: the horrible truth underpinning every single aspect of her bizarre behavior.

She still loves him.

After all this time, she still doesn't know what real love is.

He almost feels sorry for her - _almost_. But more than that, he feels disgusted. If she really did love him, she would never have treated him this way. Her love isn't a gift, or a blessing: it's completely meaningless. It's nothing.

"I would have been kind to you," he says, getting to his feet. Now that he's figured out the final piece of the puzzle, he can't stand to be in the same room as her a minute longer. "I would have worked with you to sell a story about our break up that was fair to you. You know I would. But after everything you've done, after all the ways you've hurt me and Olivia, I do not care anymore. I don't give a single fuck what happens to you now. And I _never_ want to hear from you or see your face again. Understand?"

It's a rhetorical question. He's at the door, papers firmly in his hand, when he turns back with one last, malicious comment; his final poison-tipped arrow.

"Oh, and by the way - I hope Jonathan was good. I hope he made you feel something in your cold, empty heart, even just that one time. Because Olivia Pope is the love of my life. The things I could tell you about her body… The way she looks when she's riding me, the moans she makes when I'm fucking her… God, you have no idea. And I hope that every time you see her - and you will see her, everywhere, because she is so beautiful inside and out that the entire _world_ is in love with her - I hope you think about me, kissing her, peeling off her clothes, taking her to bed. I hope you wonder what it's like to know another person's every secret; to need someone so much you can't _breathe_.

"And I hope, I _really_ hope… that it fucking hurts."

Judging by the look on her face as he wrenches open the door and storms out, it already does.

* * *

He dials Olivia as soon as he gets to his car. She answers straight away, breathless. "Hi. How did it go?"

"Fine. She signed. It's over."

The way she squeals makes him smile despite the fact he's distracted, still reliving everything that's just happened.

"Was it her? The photos?"

"Yes."

"Why did she want them?"

"She was jealous," he says evenly, and it's not the whole truth but it isn't a lie, either. "She wanted to find out if her suspicions about us were correct."

"And then what?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. She signed the NDA. They're safe. We're safe."

"Oh my god, Fitz. Thank you. I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I," he says quietly. Then he sighs and rubs his free hand over his eyes. He's so tired he could fall asleep right now - if only his mind could switch off.

His soon-to-be ex-wife still thinks she loves him. It is pretty unbelievable, given everything he knows about love now. He would do anything for Olivia; he would even leave her, if that's what she truly wanted. He couldn't ever hurt her deliberately, even if she hurt him first. It's unfathomable; impossible. How did Mellie ever think that 'love' would allow her to behave that way?

He realizes the silence has gone on bit too long when Olivia asks tentatively, "Are you okay?" She can clearly sense his emotional distance. And he wishes more than anything it wasn't there, but the way he feels about Mellie is one thing he needs to process alone. He won't burden Olivia with the knowledge that she still loves him; her confession will forever be their final secret.

"I'm fine," he replies, forcing a smile, trying to push away such disturbing thoughts. "I'm just going to drop off the paperwork with Jemima and then I'll come over to yours."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you soon then… Drive safe."

He does, but for longer than usual. He drives until he has it all figured out in his head; until he's gone over every interaction with his wife over the last few months and he understands how each one led them to this point. He drives until it all makes some kind of sense, even though it still makes no sense at all. He drives until, at last, she's gone from his mind; until that door is closed behind him and all that's in front is his future.

"That's the end now," he tells himself out loud. "You're getting divorced. It's over."

And it is. It's _over_.

When he finally arrives at Olivia's apartment, all he wants to do is hold her. But she takes his hand instead, leading him down the hall.

"I called Harrison," she says on the way. "I told him what you told me. He's going to pass on the message to everyone else."

"Okay. Good."

In the kitchen, he's surprised. "What's this?" he asks as he takes in the table set for afternoon tea, the vase of fresh flowers with a wrapped gift and card leaning it. She passes them to him. It's only then that he realizes she's wearing the Mama Bird t-shirt he bought her the day before.

"Livvie, what-?"

"You sounded upset on the phone." She looks so young, so bare - but fierce, too. _Brave_. "I wanted to remind you what all of this is for; to stop you feeling sad."

"Oh, sweet baby." Could he love her any more than this? "I'm not sad. I was just a little… disappointed, that it had to end the way it did. But it has ended. That's all that matters."

For a moment, he thinks she's going to ask him more about what happened with Mellie. But then she seems to decide against it, either because she doesn't want to hear it or she senses he won't talk about it - or both. And then she smiles, and he knows that's okay.

"Do you want to open your present now?"

Out of the paper, he pulls a wooden picture frame containing the beautiful ultrasound image of their baby. He brushes his fingertip over its little face, a lump forming in his throat. And then he opens the card Olivia has written and it has an even greater effect on him - in fact, it almost makes him cry.

 _Dear Fitz,_

 _I don't know how to tell you how grateful I am that I found you; that we found each other. I don't know how to explain in words how thankful I am for everything you've done for me and our baby. We turned your world upside down - and it's never fazed you. I don't know how anyone can be so strong. I'm in awe of you._

 _I hope you know that you turned my world upside down, too. I hope you know that it's the right way up now. And if you ever feel that you might fall off, even just for a second - know that I won't let you. I'll hold on to you forever and ever._

 _We love you, Daddy. Thank you for being ours._

 _All our love, Livvie and Baby G xxxxx_

 _P.S. Will you move in with me?_

He's speechless. He reads it twice and then looks up to find that she's blurry, his eyes filled with tears, his entire soul overflowing with love for her.

"Come here," he breathes, pulling her against him, holding her so tightly he thinks he might never be able to let go. How is it possible that everything in the world that matters to him can fit inside his arms? How can this one woman, and the baby inside her, be so precious to him that he knows he would go through hell and back to fight for them, a thousand times over? It gives his day exactly the perspective he needs: a divorce is nothing. The person he was married to is nothing.

This girl, their child - they're it for him. They're his new beginning, his happy ever after and every single moment in between.

"Will you?" Olivia is asking softly, pressing kisses to his neck, his ear. "Will you move in with me?"

He gazes at her for a long moment as the biggest smile spreads over his face. "What do you think?"

She cries out with joy as he lifts her, crossing the small kitchen, sitting her on the countertop. Her legs encircle his waist and then he's kissing her, passionately, his hands on her thighs, her hips, sliding up her spine, hugging her as close as physically possible. She moans, opening her mouth, welcoming his tongue inside - and he _devours_ her. He can't get enough. As long as he lives, he won't _ever_ be able to get enough of her.

Eventually, in desperate need of air, they break apart. Olivia is panting, her lips wandering across his cheek, down his neck. Her fingers are tugging his hair, playing with his ears in that way she knows drives him crazy, and he groans, pressing his erection even deeper between her legs. He slips his palms beneath her t-shirt, roaming over her back as he lifts it up, unfastening her bra on his way past. Then he's loosening it at the front, freeing her breasts. When he brushes his thumbs over her hard nipples she lets out a cry, her whole body tensing, her head falling back.

He looks at her, caught in the throes of arousal, with her cute t-shirt and even cuter baby bump, and decides that she has never been sexier than she is right now; that he has never wanted her more than he does right now; that he needs to take her to bed and make love to her _right now_.

So, he does.

He carries her to the bedroom and they kiss until they're naked; until his fingers are coated in her wetness; until he's lining himself up and she's drawing him in with her heels and he's fucking her as fast as he can, over and over, stretching her into a short, intense climax which makes her finally tear her mouth away, to swear and call out his name.

"I love you," she whispers as she recovers, holding his face in her hands, her dark eyes so incredibly expressive in the pale afternoon light. "I love you so much."

"I'm yours now," he replies with a half-smile, moving again, relishing the way it makes her eyelids flutter, her lips part so invitingly. He kisses them, tasting, teasing - and he doesn't stop. It's the kind of sex which is all mouths, tongues and teeth; fingernail tattoos and his hand holding her jaw and soft, shared sounds - grunts and whimpers and communication without words. And it ends just as it began: with two people so close they're almost one.

They fall asleep right there, exhausted and entwined. Fitz has never felt so at peace.

When he wakes sometime later, he leaves Olivia napping and takes a quick shower, walking around the warm apartment - _their_ apartment, now - in his towel. He stands at the threshold of her office, down the hallway from the bedroom, and thinks about how they might change it into a nursery. Crib in the corner beneath the window, rocking chair beside where his gorgeous girl will sit, feeding their child, gazing enraptured into his or her little face. He can picture it so vividly it's almost real, right now, and his heart thumps with longing, excitement. Twenty-eight weeks to go. So far and yet, in the grand scheme of things, absolutely no time at all.

In the kitchen he makes two cups of tea and fills a plate with some of the sandwiches and mini cakes she'd bought for lunch. He carries them back to the bedroom and then returns for the photo frame and card, setting them up on his new bedside table. Olivia stirs as he sits down beside her, curling herself around his thighs, her head on his lap. He strokes her hair, her beautiful face, telling her how much he loves her, how thankful he is that she asked him to move in. He didn't realize the prospect of house-hunting alone had been bothering him so much. Doing anything alone now seems ridiculous, wrong. They are a team, a _family_. They belong together - all three of them.

"Let's go to LA now," he says spontaneously. She sits up, drawing his eyes to her bareness, her phenomenal curves.

"Wait," she says, getting up, pulling on her panties, heading to the bathroom. When she returns a minute later she straddles his lap and picks up a cup of tea, taking a sip as his hands come to rest on her hips. She's still considering his offer.

"Come on, Livvie," he presses, brushing his thumbs over her belly. It's become so instinctive already, he barely realizes he's doing it. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"But our flights aren't until tomorrow morning."

"I know that. But fuck it. I need to get out of this city. Don't you?"

She leans over, putting her cup down again, picking up the plate of food. She offers him a sandwich; then he feeds her, bites of cake which she licks deliberately from his fingers, her gaze playful but her actions so erotic he's already hard for her again. Her sexy smile informs him she knows _exactly_ what she's doing.

"Okay," she concedes eventually, replacing the plate. "But do we have to leave right this minute? I mean…"

She moves even closer, rising onto her knees, pulling his towel and her panties aside and welcoming the tip of his rock-hard cock into her hot, wet entrance. Her eyes are burning into his and he can't breathe, he's focusing so hard on staying still, on letting her have control for once - this woman who already controls every single part of him.

"… Can we go in half an hour?"

She sinks down.

* * *

They finally leave several hours later - and that is _more_ than fine by him.

* * *

 **End of Act One.**


	27. You're Fitz's New Girl?

**A/N:** Just a little update for you. I should have carried on to Thanksgiving but hey, it came to a natural end point and I felt like sharing. (My hiatus is going so well, as you can see.)

Also, I'd just like to say one thing: you don't get to leave me 'complaints'. This isn't a service you're paying for. We writers spend so much of our time doing this because we love it, and we want to share our worlds with you. You don't have to agree with what we write, and I am always open to discuss my characters, my plot lines - but when you hide behind your anonymity, you take that option away from me and leave me powerless. So please just be mindful of what you write in reviews. You can complain about restaurants, public transport, the government - but remember that this is all for free, and contains a lot of my heart and soul.

Rant over. And I don't need sympathy, honestly. I just had to get that out there.

Please enjoy this chapter! Love and thanks to all of you for your feedback, as always.

* * *

 **Chapter 27 -** ** _You're_ Fitz's New Girl?**

Olivia wakes early in Fitz's father's house, just as the sun is starting to rise. She never copes well with jetlag. Since they gained so much time flying across the country the previous evening, her body thinks it's mid-morning already - time to start the day.

She turns onto her side to find that her handsome man is still fast asleep.

 _Her_ man.

That word catches in her brain. She still hasn't completely processed the news that he's getting his divorce; that he will be fully, legally free as soon as their case goes to court. Free for her to love for the rest of her days; free for them to stand up proudly together, to share the joy of her pregnancy, to celebrate their relationship in front of the world.

More than anything else, though, she's mainly glad it's over because of all the stress it's been causing him. She knows he's been trying to hide it from her but she's noticed how tense he's been, how badly he's been sleeping. He put so much pressure on himself to end his marriage quickly, as if a lingering piece of paper signed ten years earlier was restricting him from being the best boyfriend, the most doting father-to-be - but nothing could be further from the truth. He was already everything she needed. If she'd had to live with him in the shadows her whole life, she would have. It would never have been easy but it wouldn't be a choice. She just loves him so much.

She watches him in the semi-darkness, listening to his steady breathing and the patter of rain against the window panes. Even though she knows his wife was never a threat, in the very back of her mind there's always been the knowledge that he was someone else's first - and although that will always be true, at least the divorce will finally close that door on his past. While it was open he was stuck, one foot on either side. Gazing into his beautiful face right now, it feels like they are new, all over again.

This is where their lives together really begin.

She thinks she could lie here and look at him all day; study him for years and still want more time. He's just so fascinating. She wonders what parts of him their baby will inherit. Probably not his blue eyes, because she knows her genes are dominant, but what about the shape of his mouth, and the way it curves when he's happy; his easy laugh, his laid-back personality? If she could choose, she'd take so much of him for her child - but at the end of the day, it doesn't even matter. The little life inside of her is already perfect.

Fitz doesn't stir when her craving for a cup of tea finally gets her out of bed. It's cold, the end of November, and she takes the fluffy blue robe from the back of his door and puts it on over her silk pajamas. It doesn't smell like him - the washing powder is different, and he probably hasn't worn it for a long time - and that makes her sad. She loves being wrapped up in his scent. It's like a secret hug.

The house is silent, and even colder outside their bedroom. Fitz gave her a brief tour last night. His father was out at a dinner party, not expecting their arrival until later today. They were both so tired they went to bed before he even arrived home, so she's not had the pleasure of meeting him just yet. She hopes she won't have to at six AM, in her pajamas, without a shower. Hopefully she can make her tea and get back to Fitz without seeing a soul.

The large kitchen-living-area stretches along the back of the house, with several sets of doors opening onto the porch. She's sure the view of the countryside would be incredible, especially on those summer evenings Fitz always talks about, but today there's nothing to see except dark gray sky and rain. She makes her drink and stands there awhile, looking out, lost in thought. This is the house her baby will spend time growing up in, when they visit: crawling on the soft antique rugs which cover the hardwood floors; taking slow, uneasy steps, holding onto the furniture for support; and later, running outside, over the vast expanse of lawns and the fields beyond. She's only seen it at night, and in photographs, but she knows it's an incredible place for a child to play. So different from New York, and her small apartment. Maybe one day, they'll move…

"Good morning."

The voice startles her so much that she jumps, spilling her tea, heart pounding in fright.

"Shit," Big Jerry is saying, rushing over to the sink for a cloth. She notices a slight limp as he moves. "Here. I'm so sorry I scared you. You must be Olivia…"

And then he looks at her, really _sees_ her for the first time, and it's his turn to be taken aback.

"Olivia Pope, no less. _You're_ Fitz's new girl?"

She takes note of his incredulous tone but smiles, and nods. Her pulse rate is starting to return to normal again. "Hi, Mr Grant. It's a pleasure to meet you. Even in… these circumstances."

She gestures to their bedroom attire and he smiles too. _Fitz's smile._ It disarms her. She knows Fitzgerald Thomas Grant II from his speeches and TV appearances during his years in the Senate; she even passed him several times in Washington while she was working there. But seeing him in real life, up close, there is so much of him in Fitz it's uncanny.

It takes her a moment to realize he's still holding out the cloth towards her. "Oh, thank you." She uses it to dab at the tea on her robe, while surreptitiously checking that her baby bump is well and truly disguised - which it is. Fitz hasn't told his father yet; they're saving it for Thanksgiving.

"So…" There's a slightly awkward pause. Jerry looks like he wants to say something and then seems to change his mind. "I see you've made yourself at home." He gestures to her mug. "That's good."

"Your home is lovely," she enthuses. "Thank you for having me to stay."

He moves away, turning on the coffee maker. "No problem. I mean, I didn't know it was you who was staying until just now. How did…"

He tails off. It's clear there's something he's holding back, but he's a stranger to her and she doesn't feel comfortable pushing him.

"Is Fitz still in bed?"

"Yeah. He's exhausted."

"He's always been lazy in the mornings."

Olivia frowns. That's not her impression at all. "Well," she counters, instinctively defending him, "With the flight yesterday and the stress he's been under lately…"

"You mean, with Mellie?"

As usual, she bristles each time she hears that name. "I should let him tell you himself, really."

Jerry shrugs. "Fair enough." He gazes at her intently, leaning back against the counter as the smell of coffee starts to fill the air. Olivia is so glad it no longer makes her feel sick. "How did you and Fitz…?"

She waits for him to finish his sentence. When he doesn't, she guesses the end of it: "…Meet?"

"Get together. I mean, I never thought he had it in him."

It's all starting to make sense now. Fitz has always told her how estranged he and his father have been, and how Big Jerry doesn't know him nor respect him - and she's witnessing that, first hand.

"Had what in him?" she asks, as politely as she can. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on," he says with a smile. "You're Olivia Pope. You could have anyone you want. I'm just curious to know what Fitz has, that's all."

This conversation is making her so uncomfortable. She's torn between keeping the peace, because this man is a part of her family now, and calling him out on his blatant rudeness towards Fitz, and his intrusiveness into their relationship.

In the end, the latter wins - but she tries her best to be diplomatic. "I think that's a very personal question," she says levelly, looking straight into his eyes. "And I also think that, if you have to ask what your son has that makes me want to be with him, you clearly don't know him at all."

Jerry holds her gaze for a long moment, absorbing her words. Then he drops his head and sighs, running a hand through his hair in much the same way Fitz does. "Christ, I'm sorry Olivia. I realize how that sounded. I'm just trying to get to know him better, after all these years. You are an extraordinary woman-"

"And he's an extraordinary man."

There's a short silence.

"I only know what he tells me," Jerry says finally, "And what I can read about him whenever his work is mentioned in the media. I used to get more updates from Mellie than I ever did from Fitz himself."

"I'll keep you updated, if that's what it takes." She offers a small smile and he gratefully accepts.

"That shouldn't be necessary. All I need to do is pick up the phone and call."

"Exactly." She finishes off the last of her tea and rinses her mug. "Well. This has been… intense."

Big Jerry laughs. "It has. I apologize, again. Would you like some breakfast?"

"I might go and wake Fitz up, have a shower. Then maybe we can start over?"

He nods, still smiling. "You're feisty, Olivia. I like you."

She wonders whether she can say the same in return.

* * *

Fitz is mortified when they're showering together and she recounts her entire conversation with his father. "I am so sorry about him. God, he's such an asshole."

"Yeah, a little."

She smiles, but he doesn't find it funny.

"I should have told him who you were before we came. I just didn't expect you'd meet before I could introduce you."

"It's fine, Fitz."

"It's not. I can't believe he was so rude to you. Well, I can, actually."

"It's not me I'm worried about." She washes his upper body, exploring the contours of his muscles beneath his warm skin. "I hope I didn't overstep the mark but I couldn't listen to him talk about you like that. He really doesn't know you at all, does he?"

"Why would he? We barely speak to each other. I still think he remembers me as a moody teenager half the time. Turn around."

She stays quiet as he massages her back, giving him space to think.

"Maybe it was too soon to bring you here," he says eventually. "Maybe we should have stayed in LA instead. I thought our relationship had improved since I visited last month but he's obviously just the same."

"He said he was trying," Olivia counters, her tone gentle. "I genuinely don't think he realized how inappropriate he was being, asking why I'm with you."

She turns to face him again, lifting her arms to his shoulders, pressing her wet body against his. "Why _are_ you with me?" he asks, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice as his hands settle on her ass. She loves how she can distract him from his worries, the same way he does for her.

Instead of answering she kisses him, drawing him in, letting him sweep her away.

"Mmm," she sighs a minute later, gazing into his eyes. "So many reasons. Mainly because you are an excellent kisser."

"Am I?" he grins, covering her mouth again, squeezing her tightly against him. He slowly backs her into the tiled wall and holds her there as his palms explore the curves of her hips, her waist, her breasts. "God, Livvie. Your body is incredible."

He starts to trail his lips downwards, slowly kneeling as he goes until he's kissing her belly, saying good morning to their baby. He turns her sideways, admiring her from all angles. She rests her hand on top of his on her bump and they share wide, besotted smiles. Her pregnancy is still new and exciting, each and every day. Sometimes she wonders if it will ever feel real, if she will ever accept that she is this lucky, this blessed.

Fitz tries to seduce her as she's getting dressed in the bedroom, standing behind her, kissing her neck, slipping his fingers into her panties. She wriggles out of his embrace, admonishing him with a sparkle in her eye - a promise for another time. "Your father is expecting us downstairs," she says firmly, pulling on her jeans. They're the stretchiest ones she owns and they only just fasten. "We can't be late."

"We can. I don't care what he thinks."

" _I_ do."

He sighs and reluctantly puts on his clothes, too. He watches her as she checks her reflection, making sure their secret is hidden.

"Maybe we can go live on an island somewhere," he says out of the blue. "You can walk around all day in whatever you like, embracing the fact we made a baby."

The thought has crossed her mind once or twice before. If only they could escape to paradise, far away from his wife and the press and all the expectations, the judgements of the world.

"I am embracing it," she tells him seriously, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's all I think about, all day long. I _love_ my body. I'm so proud of it. And I can't wait for my bump to grow, to finally show it off. We'll get there, Fitzy. I know we will."

He smiles and kisses her forehead. "I know we will too. I've never doubted you, sweet baby. And I never will."

"I love you."

"I love you more. Now, can you give me five minutes with my father before you come downstairs?"

"Fitz…"

He ignores her warning tone. "Don't worry. I just need to set some boundaries with him."

"Be nice."

He's already halfway out the door when he calls back: "I'm always nice."

She sits down on the edge of the bed, wondering whether it was indeed a mistake to come here.

* * *

They manage to have a perfectly civil breakfast, actually. It's probably the fact that Marilyn is there too, and the housekeeper Betty, who has cooked up a feast. Certainly, father and son are being polite but she can sense the tension between them. This is the last thing Fitz needs right now, just one day after dealing with his wife.

"So, what are you doing in LA Olivia?" Marilyn asks as they eat the fluffiest pancakes and drink freshly squeezed juice. Olivia likes her immediately. She's a very smart woman who clearly has a lot of influence over Big Jerry. Maybe between the two of them, they can help their men resolve their differences.

"A few talk shows, one this afternoon and another couple tomorrow morning. And I'm hosting the Women for Women fundraising gala tonight."

"Liv is one of their ambassadors," Fitz says, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Oh, really? How fascinating." Marilyn smiles warmly at her. "What projects have you been working on recently?"

Olivia could talk about this for days. "Well, the UN has just released a twenty-year follow up study looking at the impact of mental health in childhood on long-term outcomes for women: their overall health, their education, work prospects and so on. The results are as you'd expect. It's really, really heartbreaking. So, we've been collaborating with the government both locally and in DC to start the ball rolling on making positive changes: better access to counselling, psychologists, psychiatrists, right from junior school onwards; more funding for support services; more publicity so young girls know where to turn."

"How's that going for you?" Jerry asks skeptically. "DC is full of pigs, Olivia. I'm glad I've gotten out of there, honestly. They'll corrupt you on day one if you're not careful."

She wonders how corrupt he became during his long political career; how many dirty deals he made, how often he pandered to the GOP, the NRA, the innumerable billionaire businessmen throwing their money and their weight around. As soon as she's had that thought, though, she decides she doesn't want to know. Some stones are better left unturned - especially when she has to know this man for the rest of his life, when her child has to look up and call him _Grandpa._

"I think having the weight of the UN behind you, and the support of the First Lady, definitely helps."

He concedes her point with a smile. "I'm sure it does. Kudos to you. You really are making waves. If you ever need help, I still have friends in high places - even if I am a Republican."

She shrugs. "I don't care what you are, as long as we believe in the same cause."

"That," Marilyn interjects, "Is the most sensible thing I've heard in years. More juice, darling?"

Olivia beams at her.

Afterwards, she says goodbye to her hosts until the following day and Fitz drives her into the city in their rental car. It's about an hour and a half from the ranch, giving them plenty of time to talk. He tells her what he spoke to his father about before breakfast: the fact that his divorce is in motion, that Olivia Pope is a permanent fixture in his life now and that he would like them all to have a friendly, peaceful Thanksgiving in two days' time.

"He apologized to me for the way he spoke to you." He glances over at her. "Says he's going to try harder. We'll see."

"Baby, you two haven't gotten along in decades. You're not suddenly going to have a perfect relationship in the space of a month. Don't expect too much, okay?"

He reaches out and squeezes her knee. "How are you so wise?"

"Because I'm Olivia Pope," she grins.

He drops her off round the back of the hotel she's staying in, where her usual LA styling team have set up her suite for the next twenty-four hours. She's already chosen her outfits from images they've been sending her over the past couple of weeks, and she hopes to God they all fit. She doesn't want to tell another soul about her pregnancy unless she absolutely has to. All the staff are bound by NDAs, but this secret is too important to entrust to anyone outside her immediate friends and family.

"I'll miss you," he says sadly, his lips lingering on hers.

"I wish you could come with me."

"One day. Good luck, Livvie. You'll be amazing."

"Thank you." She's almost opening the door when she turns back. "And be nice to your dad, Fitz. He's the only one you have."

* * *

Time flies.

She's busy from the moment she meets her team: trying on dresses (fortunately they fit, and peplum waists are in this season); choosing accessories; having her hair, makeup and nails done. It's nice to be pampered but she's trying to practice her speech too, and to go over all the stats from the UN report one final time.

Then she's driven to one of the studios to record for an evening talk show the following week, where paparazzi and fans are crowded outside. After that, it's back to the hotel and the whole process starts again. She doesn't have a spare second to text Fitz, to wonder what he's doing - but she does love her job. She loves meeting people, talking about her passions, getting glammed up. She can't wait to share this experience with him, sometime in the not-too-distant future.

There's a red carpet outside the gala, which is dotted with celebrities posing for photos and interviews. Fortunately the rain has stopped, but it's bitterly cold. Olivia is glad for her floor-length Vera Wang gown, with its black bodice and huge taffeta black and gold skirt, hiding the fact that - just like most of the women around her - she's wearing thermal leggings beneath.

Inside she's offered a drink several times which she always declines for water. It's plausible, given she's hosting the whole evening. And that part goes smoothly too: she talks about the charity's work, what she learned when she visited Rwanda with them the previous year, and exactly where everyone's generous donations from tonight will be put to use. Then there's dinner and an auction, followed by dancing. She enjoys every minute of it.

The next day she's up early, in the television studio at six AM for a live appearance. Then she has to get changed again before her final booking, which is pre-recorded. She's met Ellen before, and her interview is the most fun.

Finally, she's in a car on the way back to the country and she can reflect on the whirlwind she's just experienced. It still blows her mind that people want to take pictures with her, to print her photos in their magazines and comment on her hair, her makeup, her clothes. She's briefly scanned through a few websites and there's no mention of her weight, her boobs; no hint that anyone suspects a thing. _Thank god._

How is she going to keep doing this over the next few months though, when her baby bump grows? She really needs to sit down with Harrison when she's back home, to make a plan. As far as she's concerned, the sooner they get the truth out there, the better. She's getting less and less worried about the media's opinion of her by the day, and instead focusing more on what is going to be best for her, for Fitz, for their child. It's obviously her mothering instincts kicking in: she's not the only one, now. She's no longer the most important person in her life.

She gets dropped off outside a motel, just a couple of miles from Big Jerry's ranch. As the driver pulls away, Fitz appears in his car from around the corner. Inside, she kisses him so hard she makes herself breathless.

"You looked stunning last night," he says as soon as she lets him go, his lips stained, his hair messed up by her fingers. She doesn't know whether it's their time apart or her insatiable pregnancy hormones finally kicking in, but his words fly straight over her head. She _wants_ him. It overwhelms her in a second, setting her whole body on fire.

"Is your dad at home?" she asks, sliding her hand into his crotch, touching him through his jeans.

Fitz looks at her, eyebrows raised. "He is. What's going on?"

"I'm horny. Can't you tell?"

"I can, but… why?"

"Because you're hot. Because I'm pregnant. Because it's been two days." He's growing beneath her palm, thicker and harder, and it makes her core throb, her panties wet. She needs him inside her as fast as possible. "How many reasons do you want, baby?"

He considers her for a split second and she wonders if she looks as sultry as she feels. She hopes so. Either way, suddenly he puts the car into gear and accelerates so quickly the wheels spin in the mud as they set off.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. Well, as private as I can think of."

"Ooh. Is it some rustic barn? Or the stables?"

He frowns. "Liv, it's freezing cold outside. And I'm not having sex with you in the stables. They stink, and there are people there - it's a riding center."

"Oh. So where then?"

"You'll see. Are you sure you want to do this? We could wait until later."

But she's so turned on already, blood pumping through her body, that the idea of postponing seems impossible. Is this what it's going to be like for the foreseeable future? If so, she's going to have to keep him at home, available whenever she needs him.

She suspects he would be more than happy with that arrangement.

It's raining again, the sky gray and dark even though it's mid-afternoon. They drive for about five minutes before he pulls off the road and starts heading cross-country. She's grateful she let him choose an SUV at the airport; grateful he grew up here and knows how to handle it. Finally, he stops. There's nothing to see for miles around but wetness, low-lying clouds and the vague outline of trees in the distance.

"Where are we?"

He unbuckles his belt; she does the same. But instead of opening his door, he turns to her instead. "We're right on the boundary of the ranch. The house is about six hundred yards that way; the stables are beyond that."

Then he looks around the interior of the car, a smirk forming on his lips. "This is the best I can do, gorgeous. Now, do you think the front seat or the back?"

She laughs. It's perfect, and bizarre: hiding from his father in the storm, like two teenagers in some illicit relationship.

"I don't know. I've never done it in a car before."

"What? Oh, sweet baby. You haven't lived." He leans over and pushes her seat all the way back. "Can you stand up for a second? I'm going to sit where you are…"

After some maneuvering, she ends up straddling his lap. He smiles at her, his hands resting on her waist. "Hi, Livvie."

"Hi."

She kisses him softly, the mechanics of the situation having reduced her arousal to a warm simmer. Sometimes there's overwhelming lust, and sometimes there are the tender moments where she feels like they're sharing one soul between two. In the between, there's this: barely-contained desire, pushing at their edges; the thrill of knowing the explosion will come and tempting it, teasing each other, wondering who will break first or if they'll go down in flames together.

"When was the last time you-"

He anticipates her question; answers before she can finish it. _(-Had sex in a car?)_

"Years ago. Probably when I was in college."

Good. Not with his wife, then. She hates herself for being that girl, but at the same time, the thought of him with her is… unbearable.

"Baby," he murmurs, tilting her chin up, making her look at him. "You okay? We can stop if you want."

She shakes her head. "No. I don't want to stop."

She unfastens her coat; takes it off, throws it over his shoulder and then follows it with her sweater, her blouse. Fitz's gaze travels downwards, automatically focusing on her chest, and she kneels higher so his face is between her breasts, so he can kiss them. She feels his fingers slide up her back, unfastening the clasp of her bra and then removing it altogether. When his mouth closes around her nipple, her whole body floods with pleasure; with _need._

He licks and sucks on her nipples for what feels like forever; massages her tight, aching boobs with his hands until she's writhing on him, desperately seeking friction, making him groan against her skin. It's seriously hot, being half-naked with him in a car, steaming up the windows. It makes her feel so naughty; so close, already.

"Fuck," she whimpers after several minutes, when she's not sure she can stand it much longer. Her whole center is pulsing, her clit pushing rhythmically against his rock-solid erection, and she's on that border between earth and heaven, that place where she wants to stay for the rest of her life, where nothing else could _ever_ feel this good.

Fitz knows this, of course. He always knows. He unfastens her jeans as he kisses her, ferociously, his other hand still squeezing her breast, rolling her nipple. She cries out when he thrusts his fingers inside her, when he stretches her, but he won't let her break away, biting on her bottom lip, thrusting his tongue into her mouth again. He loves to collect her sounds; to _feel_ her when she falls apart. These are always their messiest kisses; their most intimate moments.

She holds on as long as possible, wanting to prolong this ecstasy, the way he fucks her with his fingers and then withdraws them to circle her clit, so slick and wet, so tender, _so fucking good…_ Over and over, building sweet, sweet tension inside of her until it's too much, she's right at the edge, she can't _breathe-_

And then she lets go, screaming against his lips, riding his fingers, palms slamming against the window and the roof as wave after wave crashes over her body. It lasts an age. Fitz watches her through it all, sharing her release. The look of animalistic hunger on his face when she can finally see again is so erotic, she immediately wants more.

They get her out of her clothes as fast as they can and she frees him from his pants and boxers, kneeling above him again, teasing his tip with her entrance.

" _Fuck."_

It's more of a growl than a word; then she realizes it's actually a command because he takes hold of her hips and pulls her down as he thrusts up, filling her to the hilt. Their eyes meet for a second. His pupils are dilated; he's half-gone already. God, she wants to make him feel good more than anything else in the world. Her gaze falls to his mouth and then suddenly they're kissing again, and he's fucking her so hard the car is shaking, and this is definitely one of the most deviant things she's ever done and it's _incredible_.

"Come for me," she whispers in his ear, even as she's falling apart again. "I'm coming for you."

It's different, this time: less physically intense - more centralized, internal - but emotionally more profound, as they share it together.

And it's just as amazing.

She lies on him for a long time afterwards, slumped against his chest as he strokes her hair, tells her how much he loves her.

"You just lost your car virginity," he says, amused, his voice hoarse. "How was it?"

"Mmm. _So_ great. Not sure how I ended up completely naked though, and you're still fully dressed…"

He laughs. "I'm not sure either. But I'm definitely not complaining."

"Of course you're not." She looks around. It's pretty dark, the condensation from their body heat dimming what little light is still available outside. "So, what do we do now?"

"Um… Do you have any tissues?"

"Nope. There are makeup wipes in my case though. In the trunk."

"Right."

Together, they manage to get her onto the driver's seat so Fitz can brave the weather. When he comes back, he simply looks at her for several seconds.

"You know, it's rude to stare," she says, taking the wipes from him - but she loves it really.

"Sorry. I never realized I had any vehicle-related fantasies, but after that, and with you naked in that leather seat right now…"

"…We should go for drives in the country more often?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "How about tomorrow?"

"It's Thanksgiving."

"The day after, then?

She grins at him. "Deal."


	28. Do You Want To Say Hello?

**Chapter 28: Do You Want to Say Hello?**

"So, are there any Grant family traditions I need to know about before tomorrow?"

They're all sitting in the formal living room after dinner with the fire blazing, listening to the radio as the rain continues to hammer at the windows. It's cozy and warm; with Olivia beside him on the sofa, snuggled into his side, Fitz would even go so far as to call it 'homely' - and that's the first time he's thought that about this house in a _very_ long time.

"Not really," he tells her, looking at his father. "We eat the food Betty has made, drink too much, fall asleep here in the evening."

"And we always watch a Bogart movie, don't forget."

"Oh yeah. Mom's favorite."

Olivia squeezes his thigh. "That's so nice. Which one have you picked for this year?"

"We haven't yet. Dad, what do you think?"

"It's been a long time since _Casablanca_."

"' _We'll always have Paris_ ,'" Olivia quotes, sighing happily. "I love that movie. I saw it for the first time when I was about ten and it pretty much became my idea of what true romance was."

Fitz frowns at her. "But it's a doomed romance. It doesn't have a happy ending."

"I disagree. He makes her leave because he loves her, and her happiness is a bigger responsibility to him than his own. It's beautiful."

"I'm with you, Olivia," Marilyn adds from her armchair by the fire. "I think it's a gorgeous film. Always makes me shed a tear."

"Me too."

Fitz watches his father roll his eyes and smiles. There will always be certain things which unite them, no matter what the state of their relationship.

"You're so sweet," he tells Olivia, holding her tightly against him. He notices her mug is empty. "Do you want another hot chocolate?"

"No thank you. That was delicious, though."

"Wasn't it?" He'd had one with her, to avert suspicion when she wasn't drinking alcohol - but he'd spiked his with orange liqueur anyway. "Marilyn, can I get you anything?"

"Another red wine would be lovely. Thank you."

"Dad?"

"I'll help you, son. Just a second."

He winces in pain as he gets to his feet.

"Is that your knee?" Fitz asks him. "You really need to get it seen to."

"Please tell him Fitz," Marilyn calls as they leave the room. "He won't listen to me."

In the kitchen, Jerry stops him before he's even had chance to open his mouth. "I'm fine. Don't pester me. It just gets stiff in the cold weather and I can't take anti-inflammatories anymore because of my damn stomach ulcer."

"I'm sure there are other painkillers you could try. Have you seen your doctor about it?"

His father dismisses him with a wave of his hand. "I said I'm fine."

"You're stubborn."

"I know. I'm sorry you had to inherit that from me." He smiles, and Fitz can't help but reciprocate. It's a rare moment of humor between the two of them. They managed to spend a bit of time together yesterday but he'd had several video calls to make with Cyrus and the rest of his staff, and any conversation with his father had mainly been about Olivia - her background, her work, her ambitions.

"She is a gem," Jerry says fondly now. "I can see how happy she makes you."

"She's amazing."

"I also noticed you've taken down every photo of Mellie from around the house."

Fitz shrugs. "Of course I have. I did it the night we arrived, before I even gave Liv a tour. I don't want her to be reminded that I'm married. _I_ don't want to be reminded that I'm married."

"Not for much longer, by the sounds of things."

"Hopefully not."

His father looks at him for a long moment. "How did she take it, when you asked her for the divorce?"

He really doesn't want to think about that conversation in Mellie's office again. It makes him feel so uneasy. It needs to stay in the past, where it belongs. "Not well. But she signed the papers, so that's the important thing."

"Do you think you'll stay friends?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I like her, that's all."

"Well, I'm sorry." He says it genuinely. The two of them did get along, and it's a friendship he's now taken away from his father. "But she really made things tough for me, and for Liv. She put us through weeks of hell. And I said some pretty awful things to her in the end. I'm not proud of myself for that."

He hasn't voiced those thoughts before; hasn't had anyone to talk to about this since it happened.

Big Jerry considers him, without a hint of judgement on his face. It's possibly the only good thing about having a father with far worse morals than his own: most of his behavior is angelic in comparison.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Jerry says at length. "She's a tough woman. She'll bounce back."

"Hmm."

"Or," he suggests as he pours two glasses of red, "If it's really bothering you, you could apologize."

"I don't want to speak to her."

"So email her. Text. Come on, boy. You're supposed to be the younger generation here. Use your brain."

He says it good naturedly, and Fitz smiles. "Good idea. Thanks."

"No problem. Now, are you having wine? And what about Olivia?"

"She's fine. I think I'll have a scotch."

"Okay. You know where it is."

Back in the living room, Fitz asks his girl if she and her dad have any Thanksgiving traditions.

"We usually get up early and go for a walk. Then we have a small breakfast and start cooking."

"I thought you couldn't cook?"

She elbows him in the ribs. "You shouldn't believe everything Stephen tells you."

"I seem to remember you agreeing with him at the time."

Her laughter fills him with joy. "Okay, I'm not very good. I mainly do all the chopping, the prep. My dad is awesome though. His food is incredible."

"We'll have to go to his house next year, then."

She holds his gaze. He knows what she's thinking: how different their holiday season will be with their five-month-old baby. Her eyes are full of excitement and he can't help but kiss her, uncaring that they're not alone.

"What does your father do, Olivia?" Jerry asks, interrupting the moment.

She blushes very slightly, just enough for Fitz to notice. "He's a biology professor at Columbia. He's away right now at a conference in Europe. So thank you again for inviting me here."

"It's our pleasure."

Fitz notices his use of the plural pronoun. He wonders how much time Marilyn is spending at the house these days. Hopefully a lot. He doesn't want his father getting lonely, now that he's retired; plus, Marilyn is so good for him.

A short while later, Jerry excuses them both to go to bed. It's almost ten o'clock. Olivia stretches out, yawning; when she relaxes, she pulls Fitz down further into the cushions with her, sighing contentedly.

"Mmm. Your dad was so lovely tonight," she says softly, gazing up at him. "I had such a nice evening."

His hand automatically sneaks beneath her black cashmere sweater, covering her lower abdomen. "He was. And I'm glad."

"Do you think they'll be pleased with our news?"

"I'm sure they will. My father thinks you're great. I mean, how could he not?" Her smile is beautiful; he has to kiss it. "Also, the last time I was here he actually told me he wanted grandbabies."

"Did he?"

"Yep."

He's kissing her breast now, nuzzling it with his nose. She has the most amazing body. He just wants her, all the time.

"Fitz," she says thoughtfully.

"Mm?"

"There's another Thanksgiving tradition we have, which I didn't mention before."

He looks at her, sensing the solemnity of her tone. "What is it?"

"We each light a candle for my mom, in the evening. Sometimes we watch a movie she liked or listen to old records of hers; sometimes we look at photos. We just remember her, really. She died just after Thanksgiving."

Fitz can feel his heart breaking. "Oh, Livvie. I'm so sorry. Do you want to light a candle tomorrow?"

She nods. "Yes please."

"Okay."

She runs her fingers lovingly through his hair. "I have another favor to ask you, as well."

"Anything."

"It's the anniversary of her death on Saturday. Fifteen years. My dad and I always go to visit her grave but he's not here this year. Will you go with me instead?"

"Of _course_." She looks sad, and vulnerable, and brave. He slides his arms beneath her body and lifts her onto his lap, so she's sitting sideways and he can hold her tight. "I'll go anywhere with you, Olivia. Always."

"Thank you."

She doesn't cry, although he feels like he might. They stay there for a long time, breathing quietly together, thinking about their mothers. Eventually Fitz kisses her temple, whispers in her ear: "You are going to be the _best_ mommy."

"You think so?" Her smile is tentative. Hopeful. It reminds him just how young she is; just how little time she's had to really come to terms with the shock of this unplanned pregnancy, with what motherhood will mean for her.

"I know so."

They both look down at her tummy, overcome with affection for their child.

"I love you," she murmurs, and Fitz knows she isn't talking to him, for once. "I won't ever leave you, little one. I promise."

"You won't," he says firmly, when her voice falls apart at the end. "I'll be here, looking after you every day. I won't let anything happen to you. Okay?"

She meets his eyes again. Hers are dark, shining with tears. "Okay."

When she kisses him it's somehow soft and fierce at the same time. He can feel her love for him, feel her gratitude radiating out like heat from the fire. And then, gradually, the mood changes: the softness fades; her passion takes over. She tangles her fingers in his hair, presses her body into him. This is how they express themselves when they run out of words. This is how they take care of each other when they need it the most.

"Take me to bed, Fitz."

It's a request he could never refuse.

* * *

They make love again in the morning, snuggled down beneath the covers where it's warm. It's a fervent half-hour of bare skin, entwined limbs; of gentle hands and quiet sounds drowned in never-ending kisses. It's the kind of sex Olivia likes best of all: when she can show him how thankful she is to have him in her life, in her bed; how she loves him with all her heart and soul.

After they shower, Fitz dresses in dark jeans and a blue and white check shirt. When they were packing to leave New York, he told her that Grant Thanksgivings are quite casual - whereas her father always changes into a suit and tie for dinner. She decided to bring a pretty dress anyway, something similar to what she would usually wear. She will always think of the holidays as formal occasions because that's how she was raised. It's so fascinating to learn the differences between her upbringing and Fitz's; to imagine how they might merge their experiences in the future, to create family traditions of their own.

Her dress is red, patterned with large black and white flowers; short sleeves, sweetheart neckline, tucked in at the waist and then flaring into a floaty skirt which falls just above her knees. She wears it with black tights and a long cardigan, her hair straight; Fitz stands behind her and brushes it aside so he can kiss her neck, his arms tight around her.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, meeting her eyes in the mirror, his warm and full of love. She turns her face and kisses his cheek, his lips.

"Is it obvious?" she asks, looking down at her bump.

"Yes. And I love it."

She can't hide her smile. "Me too."

"Happy twelve weeks and four days," he says, so cutely that she has to spin around, to hold him close.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Fitzy. I still can't believe that next year there'll be three of us."

They look at each other again, completely besotted with the very idea of their baby, their own little family.

"I love you, Olivia Carolyn Pope."

He's smiling but serious. When she speaks, she is too.

"And I am _so_ thankful that you do."

* * *

Mark calls just after midday, as he does every year. His first ever experience of the holiday was with Fitz, just a month or so after they'd met one another at their university rowing club in London. They ended up so drunk neither of them can actually remember what happened that day, but it was obviously epic because they've been best friends ever since.

He excuses himself from the living room to take the call. At Olivia's request, he and his father have spent the last hour showing her childhood photo albums. He's already lost count of the number of times she's used the words 'adorable' and 'cute', and commented on how blonde his hair was when he was a baby. It's also so nice to see his mom, to revisit old memories of her with his dad and tell Olivia all about her. The only thing missing is sharing their pregnancy news, which Fitz is keeping for his speech before dinner. Every so often he glances up from the photographs to catch his girl's eye, knowing that she too is picturing the same scenes but with different characters, set forty years later. Her subtle smiles and the way she squeezes his hand make his heart constrict in his chest.

He walks past the kitchen where Marilyn is cooking all of Betty's pre-prepared food. She insisted she didn't want any help, despite their numerous offers. Once he's inside the library with the door closed behind him, he perches on the edge of the desk and updates Mark on all the recent events of his life: the whole Mellie saga and the divorce; Olivia, the baby, the twelve-week scan.

"Do you remember seeing your girls for the first time?" he asks, his voice overflowing with the same emotion he felt last Friday in the OB's office. "It was just the most incredible thing."

"Of course I do," Mark says in reply, his smile audible. "It's unforgettable. How is Olivia? Is she showing yet?"

"She is. It's amazing. I'll see if she'll let me send you a photo." He'll take a new one later, with her fully-clothed this time and not just in her underwear.

"Have you made any decisions on what you're going to do with the media? Annie's been checking the internet every day. She says nothing's come out so far."

"No decisions yet, but I think Liv is becoming less worried about it. She's been so much more chilled lately, which is great. Oh, and another thing - she asked me to move in with her."

"Wow. Congratulations. There's so much going on in your life - it sounds exhausting."

Fitz laughs. "Far from it. This is the best I've ever felt."

As he hears his own words aloud, he realizes just how true they are. He's halfway through his fortieth year and yet, since meeting Olivia, he's feeling younger every day. The physical effects of happiness - and love - on the body are astounding.

"Well, make the most of it now," Mark says wryly. "You've never known sleep deprivation until you have a newborn. You remember London; pulling consecutive all-nighters to get our dissertations finished? It's like that, but it goes on for a year and it's even more petrifying because there's a tiny, helpless baby who depends on you completely."

Fitz wonders if he should be scared, but he's not - he actually can't wait.

"Your two turned out surprisingly well in the end," he teases.

"I take no credit for that," Mark admits good-naturedly. "It was all Annie's doing. Women are truly the better half of the species. In the spirit of today's holiday, I'm thankful to be surrounded by three of them."

"I miss you guys," Fitz sighs. "I'm gonna have to go in a minute, but we need to Skype soon so I can chat to the girls."

"Of course. They miss you too. Have you thought any more about visiting us?"

"To be honest, I haven't had chance. But I will, I promise."

"You know you're always welcome. And don't tell her I told you this, but Annie is _desperate_ to meet Olivia. She's so excited about the baby. I'm half expecting her to turn around one day and tell me she wants another one."

"And your response would be?"

"Absolutely no fucking way. I'll leave that to you kids."

"We're the same age," Fitz frowns, amused.

"But I feel twenty years older. That's the beauty of fatherhood."

"Right. Well, on that cheerful note, I'll say goodbye."

Mark laughs. "Sorry mate. It's the best time, of course it is. I'm just a grumpy, cynical old dad now."

"You've always been grumpy. And cynical."

"Touché." They both chuckle. "See you, Fitz."

"Thanks for calling. Give my love to everyone."

"Will do."

Back in the living room, Fitz asks his father if he can borrow Olivia for a minute. He takes her hand and leads her upstairs to the bedroom. Her big brown eyes are wide with curiosity and he can't help but kiss her once they're inside, drawing her close with his hands pressing into the small of her back.

"Hi," she breathes when he lets her go, a gorgeous smile lighting up her face. "How's Mark?"

"Good. I wondered if you'd let me send him a photo."

"Of us?"

"Kind of." He sits down on the end of the bed and pulls her to stand between his legs. When he presses his lips to her belly, she brushes her fingernails through his hair and he almost purrs. "Hi baby," he murmurs, his voice full of tenderness. "Do you want to say hello to Uncle Mark and Aunt Annie?"

He takes several pictures of Olivia's baby bump with him smiling, kissing it, looking at it with mock-horror. If, somehow, the images ever got intercepted, there's no way of knowing who the mother of his child is.

He sends three to Mark, one of each expression. Afterwards, Olivia straddles his lap and presses her mouth to his, long and heartfelt.

"I love how you love me," she says softly, a minute later. "I hope that never changes."

"It won't."

He kisses her again. He might never have stopped if it wasn't for Marilyn's voice reaching them from downstairs: "Dinner will be served in ten minutes!"

They break apart, breathing hard. "Are you ready?" he asks, stroking her hair back from her face with his fingers.

She stands up and holds out her hand. "We're ready for anything with you, Daddy."

* * *

When the four of them are seated around the table in the dining room, a feast spread out before them, Big Jerry raises his glass of wine to kick off the toasts.

"I'll keep it short, because this food looks damn good and I'm starving. This year, I am thankful just to be sitting here; to have survived what happened to me. I'm thankful for this woman who saved me then," he looks at Marilyn, seated beside him, "And who saves me every day."

Fitz feels a lump form in his throat, witnessing the restrained yet loving way they look at one another.

"But I'm grateful that it happened," his father continues, turning his gaze to Fitz, "Because it brought you back to me. I don't think you know what it's meant to me, to be in your life again. And I know I've made a thousand mistakes over the years but I am truly thankful that you are the sort of person who has a heart big enough to forgive. I can take no credit there; it's all you and your mother."

On instinct, Fitz reaches across the table for his dad's hand and squeezes it. He's not sure he can speak right now. Senator Grant has always been good at making speeches but never ones so personal, and his words touch Fitz deep inside.

"Finally," his father says with a smile, "I'm thankful to have met you, Olivia. Welcome to our family. I hope you'll stay for a long time."

"I hope so too," she replies, touching Fitz's thigh beneath the table.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Big Jerry adds. "Retirement! I thank God every day for that."

Everyone laughs. "To retirement," they repeat in unison.

As the other host, Marilyn speaks next. "As always, I am thankful for my daughter, for her husband and for the life she loves in Scotland, even though it means she can't be here today. I am thankful for you, Jerry, for all the reasons you already know and many more you don't.

"And I am thankful for this food we are about to share; for the roof over our heads; for each new day. I pray that God will protect us and keep us safe from harm, especially those who are so much less fortunate than we are."

This time they lift their glasses with an _"Amen"_.

Fitz looks at his girl. "Ladies first."

She smiles at him. "I only have a few things to say," she begins. "I'm thankful to be here today with you, and for the food you have provided. It looks amazing, Marilyn."

"We should thank Betty too," the older woman adds thoughtfully, and they dutifully toast the housekeeper who is spending the day with her own family.

"I'm thankful for my Dad," Olivia continues afterwards, "And for the work that I am lucky enough to do. And I'm so grateful for you, Fitz." Her voice softens as she turns to him. "For everything you've given me. I'm thankful every minute of every day for our future together."

And she means the baby, and he knows.

"To the future."

"My turn," he says, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from hers. His heart has started to race. He wonders if the two people opposite him have any idea what he's about to tell them; wonders if the excitement, the thrill of sharing their news will ever get old.

"Thank you, Dad and Marilyn, for having us here. Thank you for welcoming Olivia into your home. There is so much I'm thankful for today; so many things I'd come to take for granted, which I'm only just learning to appreciate once more. And that's because of you, Livvie."

He's looking at her again; falling in love with how delicate she is, how utterly perfect.

"You have changed everything for me. You have made me better, stronger, smarter... and you've humbled me. You led me to reconcile with my father because you made me realize that there is nothing more important than family. And then you whispered to me one night in the dark that we were going to start a family of our own, and I won't ever have the words to tell you how grateful I am for you... and for our child."

He turns to his dad and Marilyn who look stunned, trying to work out if he's saying what they think he is. He's sure the grin on his face confirms it, as well as his next words: "Olivia and I are expecting a baby. Due in June next year."

"Oh my goodness!"

That's Marilyn speaking but Olivia is laughing, overcome with joy, and she just consumes him. He pulls her into a hug, kissing her hair, her lips. "I love you," he mouths, holding her chin with his thumb and forefinger, drowning in her eyes.

"I love you too."

It's only when he hears the clatter of cutlery falling to the floor that the spell is broken. All he sees is his father's back as he strides out of the room.

Marilyn looks at him, surprise replacing her initial smile. "I'll go," she says, but Fitz is faster.

"No, I will."

He tries not to look too concerned; hears Marilyn reassuring Olivia as he leaves, before congratulating her with genuine delight.

"Dad?" he calls out in the hallway.

"In the library."

His voice sounds odd. Fitz follows it, and finds his father standing behind his desk, looking out of the window.

"Um… What the hell was that?" he asks. He's not sure if he's angry or just bewildered.

"I'm sorry." Big Jerry blows his nose on his handkerchief, still facing away. "I just needed a moment to… compose myself."

When he turns around, there are tears in his eyes - and a huge smile on his face.

Fitz is taken aback. "What-?"

"Come here, son." He rounds the desk, pulling Fitz into his arms. "Congratulations. I am _so_ happy for you."

The only other time he's seen his father this emotional was when he visited several weeks ago and they talked about his mother. He would never have expected this kind of reaction from him - and neither did Big Jerry himself, by the sounds of it.

"I don't know what came over me," he says, finally letting go of his son, dabbing beneath his eyes again. "I could hear the emotion in your voice, and seeing the way you look at Olivia… I suddenly knew I was going to burst into tears, and I didn't want that to happen in front of everyone. This is so embarrassing."

Fitz puts his arm around his dad's shoulders, touched beyond measure. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks. I don't know how to- I can't explain-"

"It's okay, Dad. You don't have to. Some things are beyond words. Thank you for being happy for us. It means the world to me."

"You deserve this, Fitz. More than anyone. You know, I've wanted you to have children for years. I always knew you'd be a great dad. And I thought I could start over with a grandchild; be the kind of role model I should have been to you. Still, I have a feeling I'll end up being the indulgent grandpa who gives them everything they ask for."

"You have my permission to spoil our child to your heart's content," Fitz says with a smile, realizing how much happiness the idea brings him. "Just don't tell Olivia I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me."

They share another brief embrace before heading back to the dining room.

"Olivia," Jerry says, holding out his arms towards her. "Congratulations. I'm so sorry I left like that. I am overjoyed for you, honestly."

"Thank you." She stands and hugs him back, looking both intrigued and relieved. Fitz just shrugs a little, silently telling her it's all okay.

When they're finally seated together again, he takes her hand and raises his glass. Olivia lifts her water, at last able to stop pretending to drink wine. "One last toast," he announces, and it's the most important one of all. "To family."

" _To family."_

* * *

They seem to talk about babies for the rest of the day: through dinner and pumpkin pie; drinks and card games in the living room; a quick stroll around the grounds during a lull in the weather, as it's starting to get dark. Just before they settle down to watch Casablanca, Fitz excuses himself and Olivia for half an hour, to light a candle for her mom.

He takes her upstairs, to a room at the back of the house which is an informal living area. It's barely used these days but he explains that it used to be his playroom, and consequently somewhere he spent a lot of time with his own mom.

"On a clear day, you can see all the way to the San Bernardino Mountains. We used to go hiking there in summer. She made the best picnics."

Olivia looks up at him, her eyes bright and understanding. "Do you want to light a candle for your mom too?"

It's not something he's ever thought about doing before, but he answers without hesitation: "Yes. That would be nice."

They sit together on the floor, their backs against the sofa, snuggled under a blanket while the heater starts to kick in. Besides the two tall, white candles on the table, the only other light comes from a lamp across the room.

"Do you want to talk?" Fitz asks softly, stroking her thigh.

She shakes her head. "I want to tell her about the baby… but I can't." Her voice trembles. "I've tried so many times, but I'm not ready."

"That's okay. You'll get there."

She sniffs and cuddles in closer. "I hope so. Most of the time I'm fine, and then some days I try to imagine doing this without her and I don't know how I could _ever_ … I miss you, Mommy. I love you."

She cries quietly, her face buried in his chest. Fitz wishes there was something he could do, but no amount of love can give her the one thing she wants most of all - and that destroys him.

It's only a few minutes before she starts to recover, sitting up, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she says, but he shushes her with his finger on her lips.

"Don't you dare," he murmurs. "Don't ever be sorry, baby."

He pulls her onto his lap, her back against his front, his chin tucked over her shoulder. Together they watch the flames flicker and he runs his palms back and forth over her abdomen, thinking about the life inside of her; wondering how fast its little heart is beating, if it knows how much it's cherished already.

"Can we still sit like this," she muses aloud after a couple of minutes, "When I'm more pregnant?"

"Do you mean physically, or-?"

As intended, she laughs. "No. Well, maybe. But I just love these quiet moments with you. I can't wait to feel the baby moving."

"Neither can I. As soon as it starts, I don't think you'll be able to get my hands off your belly."

Olivia turns her face to look at him. "Good." Her gaze falls to his lips. "Thank you for taking care of me," she says, so tenderly, and seals it with a kiss.

"I always will."

She brushes her fingers down his cheek. "Do you want to talk about your mom?"

"Okay."

He tells her, and the baby, all about Allison Attaway: where she was born (San Francisco, 1948); who her parents were; where she went to school, college. How she loved growing up in the Sixties; how those years gave her the freedom to follow her own path, to choose a life dedicated to helping others. How she met her husband at a party when she was twenty-four; how he fell in love with her instantly but had to work for her hand, because she was so beautiful that every man wanted to marry her, and so smart she knew exactly what she deserved and wasn't prepared to settle for anything less.

He tells them about the charity work she did, about how she visited some of the poorest countries in the world on her own because her fiancé (and then husband) couldn't leave his government job - and probably didn't want to. He says he thinks she probably regretted marrying his dad, even though she loved him, because the life she lived with him never seemed to make her as happy as she should have been - and that was even before the adultery began.

But he doesn't want to think about all that right now, not when he's remembering her beautiful soul.

"I wish she could know you," he says sadly. "She would love you as much as I do."

"Is that possible?"

He smiles against her neck. "I'm not sure. Probably not."

The candles are burning low. He's aware that they've been gone awhile already, and that his father and Marilyn are waiting for them to watch the film. But still, this girl is his number one priority.

"Do you want to talk about your mom?" he asks gently.

"Not tonight."

"Okay."

"It's not that I don't want to. I just can't put her into words. With my dad it's easy, because we both knew her. But I can't explain her to you, Fitz. I can't capture her. She was just… everything. She was the best mom in the world."

He kisses her temple. "I think you've just said it all," he tells her. "If you want to stay here longer and think about her, we can. Take all the time you need."

About five minutes later, Olivia stirs again. "We can go now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I've said hello to her. I think she's okay."

"I'm sure she is."

They get to their feet, and each blow out one candle.

"I made a wish," she tells him as they leave the room. "I'm not sure why. I don't usually do that."

"What did you wish for?"

"To be as good a mommy to my baby as she was to me."

Fitz doesn't know what to say. He hopes his eyes convey it all instead: just how strongly he believes in her; how sure he is of her ability to love and nurture their child.

"Come on," she says, her tone brightening as she pulls him along by the hand. "It's time for _Casablanca_."

And then he realizes that he can't let her go just yet; that he doesn't want this moment, nor the last, magical half hour, to be over.

"Olivia Pope," he sighs, pinning her to the wall at the top of the stairs. He nuzzles her warm cheek, breathing her in. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world… you walked into mine."

Her giggle resonates in his ears, and in his heart. "Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time."

He thinks it's another quote from the movie but it doesn't matter, because he already is.


End file.
